


We Will Always Go Together

by authoressjean



Series: The Bonds of Brotherhood [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Big Brother Dean, Big Brother Michael, Big Brother Raphael, Brainwashing, Brotherhood, Brotherly Love, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester Use Their Words, Dean is Michael, Do not get between them, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Gabriel (Supernatural), Hurt Lucifer (Supernatural), Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer Falls and Becomes Sam Winchester, Michael Falls and Becomes Dean Winchester, Michael and Lucifer are good siblings, Post-Season/Series 04 AU, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Michael (Supernatural), Reincarnation, Sam is Lucifer, Season/Series 05, it will not end well, no but seriously, that still kills me that that's a tag, warnings for brainwashing aka angelic reeducation, warnings for torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 103,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22026562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressjean
Summary: Sequel to "We Will Not Be Torn Asunder."Sam and Dean have had their Graces restored and the Cage done away with. But the greater question of who caused the problems in Heaven and set them up to fight each other in the first place still remains unanswered.And just because they're Lucifer and Michael again doesn't mean that all of their other problems have gone away. Nightmares remain. Danger still exists, for archangels and those they call family. Enemies seem even more hellbent than before to tear them apart. And someone is still determined to see Lucifer and Michael fight to the death.The bonds that they've rebuilt are stronger than ever, though. They'll have to be, to stay alive and safe with their angelic siblings. Because this time, no matter what comes their way, Dean and Sam are determined to stay together.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Gabriel & Dean Winchester, Gabriel & Lucifer & Michael & Raphael (Supernatural), Gabriel & Sam Winchester, Lucifer & Michael (Supernatural)
Series: The Bonds of Brotherhood [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1476563
Comments: 686
Kudos: 454





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello gentle viewer. Reader. You get the gist.
> 
> God help me, here we go again. Working hard on this and will have new chapters updated fairly regularly. This is going to be another beast but will be finished.
> 
> There will be a lot of hurt in this fic. But I will also make it better. There are no main character death tags because while some people do die (some I'm pretty sure you're eagerly waiting for), it's none of our boys. So rest assured in that.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the fic - I'd love to hear from you!

The room felt cold, normally something he didn’t even notice anymore unless he decided to. Being an archangel came with its perks. If he wanted to maintain a toasty inner climate, well, that was completely his choice.

Today, though, he’d expressly requested the chill of the room and he let himself feel it. It was just enough to be irritating and catch someone’s attention, but not too cold to freeze them out. Just like any other interrogation room he’d been put inside of before. Except this wasn’t the usual police station.

No, this was the interrogation room of a much higher authority.

Michael watched the angel inside the room, letting her sit and stew for a bit longer. Without her human vessel, she mimicked her True Vessel’s features. Somewhere from German ancestry, long blonde hair and eyes that shimmered between blue and green. Right now, they were also filled with a great deal of trepidation, locked on the door, waiting for someone to come to her as she sat on a white chair in front of a white table.

He left her alone a little bit more. Besides, he was waiting on someone.

As if summoned, Raphael appeared at his side. Michael raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought your vessel needed the weekend,” he said.

“She did, and she will,” Raphael agreed. “She wanted to be here for this, though. As she so succinctly put it, “I’m tired of getting updates second-hand.” So. She’s here.”

Michael felt his mouth pull into a smirk that was all the other part of him. He was content to be that other part, especially with the little brother who was still on Earth, but he’d needed to be Michael, avenging archangel, here in Heaven.

Then he could be Dean Winchester, avenging big brother, all he wanted.

“I like her,” Michael told him. “Toni’s a good sport.”

“She is, yes,” Raphael agreed. “I would have been here sooner if I hadn’t had to keep the other two busy.”

He straightened at that. “Gabe-?”

“Has Lucifer contained and busy on Earth. He wasn’t particularly thrilled about the fact that we were doing this without him, but he understood needing to keep Lucifer busy.”

Lucifer in Heaven wasn’t the best of ideas right now. They’d ultimately all agreed to keep Lucifer out of Heaven for the time being until they figured out what was really going on. Michael didn’t like it, Dean even less so, but Luce had been adamant. “Last thing we need is to cause a ruckus,” he’d said in that annoyingly calm manner of his. “Once we’ve made sure everyone is clear of any reeducation, then we can reintroduce me as Not Evil Incarnate.”

The memory brought a smile to Michael’s face. “Ready?” Raphael asked.

“Almost. Where’s Cas?”

“He wouldn’t answer his phone,” Raphael said, making a face. “Only when I called out through the Host did he respond, and very briefly at that to tell me he was busy and would contact you soon.”

“Vague,” Michael said, and he could take a few guesses why. Everyone could hear what was said over angel radio if they were tuned in. Which meant…

Nothing he could focus on at the moment. For the time being, he had his hands full with this. He gave Raphael a short nod and together they entered the cold room.

The angel immediately straightened, fear only growing. Yet there was also awe there as she gazed at Michael. “It really is you,” she breathed. “You’ve returned to us, Michael. And in your rightful vessel.”

He wasn’t touching that. “Sidria,” he greeted tersely, resting his hands on the table. It was nice to be on this side of the interrogation table for once. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Sidria shook her head, and he could sense her honest confusion. That had to be part of her fear. “I, I didn’t harm Gabriel,” she began, clearly guessing as to why she was there. “When he told me to go I went-“

“And that’s why you’re here and not a chalk outline,” he said. She tilted her head, clearly not understanding the reference, and he forced himself to walk back the Earth sayings. Michael, he needed to be Michael, the oldest archangel in history, not the human hunter.

Thankfully Raphael stepped in. “Sidria, why were you there?”

“I was ordered,” she said. “Zachariah had asked some of the Host if we would be willing to stand up against the disorder, to halt the second rebellion before it began. It…was a small contingent of us. I was added primarily because he wanted even numbers,” she admitted, hanging her head in shame. “I’m afraid I didn’t follow orders as best as I could. This was my second chance.”

She glanced up, tears in her eyes. “Have…have I failed?”

She had no clue about anything that was going on. “You didn’t take orders from Raphael,” Michael confirmed. Raphael had said as much and he trusted his brother, but if she’d been told-

“No, not that I was informed,” she said, glancing at Raphael. “If I was supposed to and haven’t, I apologize-“

“There were no orders from me. Who else led you?” Raphael said kindly. 

She sat up a little straighter at the affirmation that she hadn’t missed orders from Raphael. “Naomi would give guidance,” she said. “But it was usually from Zachariah to Naomi. We knew to follow them both.”

“What second rebellion?”

She leaned forward, as if eager to finally have a ready answer. “Zachariah said that it was a small group of angels that were infecting the Host, talking about rebelling, Falling, to join with Lucifer’s forces. That they would make humanity even more powerful. Though,” and she frowned, “I didn’t understand how that could be. Humanity has never had the power to ruin angels, and we are meant to be here for humanity.”

Her eyes went wide in sudden fear. “I-I don’t mean to question anything, of course-“

She had always been a good sort, and now Michael was even more certain that Sidria had been another pawn for Zachariah to use. “You’re not doing anything wrong,” he assured her, stepping down from the bad cop side of things. “In fact, I’m glad you questioned it. We _are_ meant to protect humanity. That’s kinda our gig.”

Her shoulders dropped a solid two inches in relief. Raphael reached over and rested his hand on her head, and when he glanced at Michael, it was with pain. So she’d been reeducated at some point, too. “May I go?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes, with Raphael,” he told her. “He wants to check you over, make sure your Grace is all right. Let him look you over and then follow his instructions.”

Sidria stood and began to follow Raphael, then stopped and quickly ran back to Michael, embracing him. Michael blinked for a minute, then wrapped his arms around her. “We have missed you,” she whispered. “I am grateful to have you and Raphael and Gabriel back. I wish…”

She paused, biting her lip, and Michael raised an eyebrow at her expectantly. “I wish you were four strong again, not just three,” she finally said, voice very, very quiet.

Michael began to smile. It would be nice to have another angel on their side, and it sounded like Sidria would make a good addition to the team, especially when it came time to bring Lucifer back upstairs. “We may be yet,” he said. “Let Raphael tend to you now.”

As they left, Michael’s phone rang. He tugged it out and answered without looking. “Yeah?”

_“Denver, Colorado. Dean, I have him.”_

That was all he needed to move from Michael to Dean. Raphael stopped at the door, lips pursed as he caught Castiel’s words. “I’m coming to you as fast as I can,” Dean told Castiel. “Stay put.”

_“Believe me, he’s not moving anytime soon. Take your time.”_ Castiel almost sounded smug about it.

Despite himself, Dean grinned. “You incapacitated him?”

_“Severely.”_

Well that sounded promising. “Then I’ll grab Gabe and Sam first.” He glanced at Raphael. “You okay up here?”

“I’ll expect to know what happens,” Raphael said. His eyes flashed blue. “I want answers, Dean.”

So did he. “Call me if you need me,” Dean told him, and he gathered his wings to him and dove down to Bobby’s, where Gabriel and Sam were waiting.

This had been a long time in coming.

The instant Dean flew back into the living room, eyes bright green and angry but _triumphant_ , Sam knew. Wings or not, this wasn’t Michael, ready to be the steady and sure archangel with a hand full of vengeance. No, this was Dean, pissed-off big brother who’d finally gotten a hand on the school bully.

And Sam was absolutely ready to be the little brother, standing behind his big brother, sticking his tongue out at the bully while thinking, _You’re gonna get it now._

Dean gave a feral grin. “Oh yeah,” he said. “He is.”

“Answers first,” Gabriel said, setting aside the book he’d been working to get back into the bookshelves. It had been a monotonous task, helping Bobby rearrange his shelves, and one that Sam knew had been designed to keep him busy. But with Bobby and Gabriel as companions, the work had been fun, not tedious, and he couldn’t fault them for trying to keep him distracted from Michael’s task in Heaven.

Which, speaking of-

“Answers first,” Dean agreed. “And I’ll tell you what I found out later. Let’s just say Gabe made the good call to let her live. We going or what?”

“I’m stayin’,” Bobby said. “I actually do have books to sort through. ‘Preciate the help, though. Now go give that asshole a good kick for me.”

“Your wish is my command,” Gabriel said cheerfully, and his wings unfurled. Sam rolled his shoulders and found his wings light and ready to move. One of them even twitched in anticipation, desperate to get this done.

Dean snorted in amusement. “Easy, Twitch,” he teased, but his own wings moved restlessly. “Let’s go.”

He took off first, ever the leader, and Gabriel flew right behind him. With a deep breath Sam furled his wings and then shot off, still unable to understand just how light his six wings were. They were bright, so bright they were nearly translucent, with ebony just on the other side when they spread out to full extension. Every time they caught the light they shone, and some days he couldn’t honestly believe they were his, these beautiful, breathtaking wings.

Then there were the days where he remembered when they were just bright, no dark colors anywhere on them. He fought to hold on to the wondrous feeling and not focus on the loss that visibly showed now every time he flew.

Gabriel’s gold shimmered ahead of him, and Dean’s own wings were nearly as bright as Sam’s, whiter than his like a pearl, a deep gold edging every feather. His wings were perfect, like they always had been.

They were over Colorado now, some part of him knew, and he followed the others down to the ground. Two bright Graces shown up at him, and he knew one instantly as Castiel’s. The other…

They landed outside an old farmhouse and barn, hidden away up in the mountains. The house was empty and had been for quite some time, if the state of it was anything to go by, and the grass ran tall around his legs. The gently _swish-swish_ helped settle some of his anxiety. He felt stupid for it: he was stronger, faster, more powerful than the angel they were about to face.

Nobody said anxiety made sense, though. Because as much as he wanted this moment, as much as they’d been desperate for this moment ever since everything had gone down two weeks ago, this meant they might have answers. And honestly, every facet of Sam, of Lucifer, was terrified of what those answers would be.

A light caress gently settled some of the feathers in his wings. The movement helped settle even more of his nerves. “You fly too fast,” Dean said quietly, the tip of his wing still smoothing down more feathers. “You always did. Your feathers wouldn’t look like this if you actually flew the way you were supposed to.”

Sam found his lips turning up. “Yeah, but that’s not nearly as much fun. And you’re one to talk, mister let’s-go-thirty-above-the-speed-limit.”

“Yeah, but that’s a car,” Dean said, grinning. “And my baby can handle it. It’s not my body, my legs, my wings.”

“My wings can handle it just fine,” Sam said, but he knew where Dean’s real concern was. He nudged his wing against Dean’s. “I’m okay, Dean.”

Dean pursed his lips and looked him over for a moment, and Sam let his Grace and soul do the real talking. Anxious, yes, but determined, and so past ready for this moment.

After a moment, Dean nodded, and they headed towards the barn.

Gabriel was all but bouncing on the balls of his feet. His Grace was easy to read, and it was hot and angry and ready to do some smiting. “Answers first,” Sam reminded him.

Gabriel snorted. “He can bleed and talk at the same time.” He pushed the door open and together they stepped inside.

The barn itself wasn’t as overgrown as the outside, the dirt path still visible through the center of the barn. Two old tractors sat in the corner, both rusted and beyond use. The stalls were filled with old hay that smelled musty and moldy, and Sam was never happier for his archangel status that let him try and filter some of it out. If he’d been just human, he’d have definitely gotten sick from the smell alone.

Castiel stood in the middle of the room, head held high, triumph in his eyes. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Lit by the moonlight through the open loft doors above, the middle of the barn stood out brightly. And there, seated on a wooden chair, slouched over and still clearly unconscious, was Zachariah.

Sam glanced at the dimmed Grace and wasn’t surprised to see Enochian-binding manacles on his wrists. Castiel had been carrying those for a while now, ever since Zachariah had done his runner. The other angel wasn’t going anywhere.

Not that he was conscious to even appreciate his lack of mobility. Sam raised an eyebrow at the two bruises running along each side of Zachariah’s face.

“When you said ‘severely incapacitated’, you meant it,” Dean said, sounding impressed.

“Yes, well. He pissed me off,” Castiel said. He scowled at Zachariah. “Finding him took far longer than I’d originally intended.”

“But you got it done,” Gabriel said. “Kudos, kiddo.”

Sam found himself looking at the angel. Not even a month ago, Zachariah had been trying to convince Dean to become Michael’s vessel, orchestrating for their death at the hands of Pestilence, attempting to kill Bobby and Castiel, and kidnapping and torturing Sam. He’d been larger than life, powerful and frightening.

Now, though, he just looked…small. Even without the dimmed Grace he didn’t appear as anything more than another being to deal with. Being an archangel gave some perspective, he supposed, on what power really looked like.

It was hard to think that Zachariah had managed to tear Heaven apart, reeducate a whole fleet of angels, and nearly destroy the world. He’d done his best to rip them apart, too. Even after all this time, even after knowing full well that the voicemail wasn’t real, part of him remembered first hearing it. First believing it. Truly believing that Dean would and could kill him.

It made him ache to think about, still. And the Lucifer part of him ached at the memory as well, remembering the Cage and the cold and how he’d nearly lost Michael.

_You’re not losing me._

Typically, they stayed out of each other’s thoughts. It was easy to do; they’d spent years as humans with the inability to hear thoughts along the celestial wavelength. They could read each other pretty well without it.

But Sam had to admit that every now and then, it was nice to have his brother weigh in when he himself couldn’t find the words.

_You hear me?_

_I hear you,_ he sent back. Dean was watching him with an open look of worry and determination. _I just…_

_I know. And I’ll keep telling you for as long as I need to, little brother. You’re stuck with me._

Some of the anxiety eased, allowing him to stand a little taller. Dean gave a brief smile and a nod. _You good?_ Dean asked.

Zachariah slowly raised his head and blinked in the dim light, and Sam gave a tight grin. _Will be in a minute._

“Yeah,” Dean said out loud. “We both will.”

At his voice, Zachariah jerked his head upright. “Michael?” he asked. “Hey, listen-“

“I’d prefer ‘Dean’,” Dean told him. “Particularly since this offense dates back to when I was 100% pure Winchester.”

Zachariah stared, then let his eyes quickly dart around the room, taking in the rest of them. He landed on Lucifer and his lips pulled up into a snarl. “I should’ve known you’d forgive him everything,” he said disdainfully, as if he couldn’t help himself. “You were always too soft on him, even after everything he did.”

“Most of which he got blamed for wrongfully, thanks for the reminder,” Dean pointed out. “But that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

“If it wasn’t him, then who?” Zachariah said. “He corrupted everyone!”

“No. That was you.” Castiel stepped forward and cracked his knuckles, making Zachariah jump. Sam hadn’t even thought Castiel _knew_ how to crack his knuckles. “You put all of us under the needle, including Raphael himself. What we want to know is why.”

Zachariah pursed his lips and glared at Castiel. Gabriel stepped forward then, eyes flaring gold. “I believe he asked you a question,” he purred, voice light but everything else radiating danger.

Instead of answering, Zachariah turned to Sam, and the slow smile he gave set all of Sam’s nerves on edge. “You know, I actually could appreciate what Lucifer wanted to do,” he said. “Wipe out humanity. Give it another roll and see what the next monkeys looked like. And hey, torturing angels, bending them to your will, it could’ve worked out for you in the long run.”

Sam froze. He’d never done that. He, he would’ve remembered. In an instant Lucifer recalled everything he’d ever done, and torturing angels didn’t come to light. His entire memory was crystal clear-

Except, it wasn’t.

“Quit placing your deeds on Lucifer,” Castiel snapped. “You defiled Heaven.”

“ _You_ defiled Heaven,” Zachariah seethed. “You didn’t follow orders! Angels are supposed to follow orders!”

“Whose orders?” Dean asked, voice dangerously low. “Because that line you fed us about Raphael pulling the strings is crap. You manipulated Raphael. Any orders you got from him were ones you’d basically given him yourself.”

Zachariah slowly shook his head. “You lower yourself, Michael. Of all the angels, the fact that _you_ aligned with these monkeys is more than I can stomach.”

They were getting nowhere. Zachariah kept sidestepping every single one of their questions, and it was giving Sam a very bad feeling in his gut. One that grew the instant that Dean got into Zachariah’s face, eyes flaring green. “If you won’t give me the answers I need, then I can demonstrate my years of experience in the Pit,” he said. “Alistair was a hell of an instructor with some interesting methods.”

“Dean.”

It was all he needed to say. Dean slowly took a step back from Zachariah, though not before the other angel had gone pale. Still, Zachariah managed to get out, “And who do you think Alistair learned it from?”

“Cain,” Gabriel said. “Quit being a douche and tell us what we want to know.”

“And where did Cain learn it from?” Zachariah said, and his eyes went straight to Sam. Sam glared at him and tried to seek out his archangel Grace to calm himself. The Grace, however, was just as pissed off as he was, and Lucifer wouldn’t have minded a minute or two alone with Zachariah.

“It’s pathetic,” Zachariah spat. “Every single one of you will always forgive Lucifer his transgressions, but the instant another angel tries to step up to the plate, tries to remove the bad influence and set Heaven straight-“

Gabriel let out a laugh. “I’m sorry, are you trying to tell me that you were the _savior_ of Heaven?”

“I stayed faithful!” Zachariah exclaimed. He glared at Sam again but Sam didn’t care. Not anymore. The idea that arranging humanity’s demise, pitting two brothers against each other, and reeducating the entire garrison of angels was _faithful_ just made him want to be sick.

“None of you were here!” he continued. “We were going to make Heaven a better place, _the_ better place! Not Hell, not Earth, but _Heaven_ , the way it was to be originally. We’re the better everything! We deserved that! And I would’ve been a better archangel than any of you!”

Dean leaned in again, but it was with the righteous wrath of Michael as he stood tall and towered over Zachariah. “Who is _we_?” Michael asked. “Answer me, Zachariah.”

Zachariah cowered but still glared defiantly. “You could have been the greatest of all the angels,” he told Michael. “All you had to do was follow orders.”

Suddenly he sprang up from the chair and gave a roar. He kicked Michael back and Lucifer immediately slid his blade free, eyes red and furious. Zachariah, hands still bound, was already at the back doors of the barn and had one halfway open. Gabriel was a step behind Lucifer as they gave chase.

Zachariah lurched to a stop in an instant as Michael appeared before him, Grace bright and powerful and _angry_. “You defiled the name of Heaven, of angels, killed our brethren, and all to exalt yourself,” Michael said, green eyes bright and full of rage. “But do you know what your greatest sin was?”

He caught Zachariah by the shoulder and Lucifer watched as Zachariah’s Grace suddenly flared. A moment later he saw Michael’s blade pierce through the other angel’s back. When Lucifer raised his eyes back to his brother, it was Dean at the forefront. “You made him doubt me,” he hissed. “You made him _fear me_ , you son of a _bitch_.”

Zachariah’s eyes went impossibly wider, and an instant later, his Grace exploded into nothing. When Lucifer could see again, Zachariah lay on the ground, dead.

He stared at the being that had almost put the Apocalypse in motion and found himself feeling empty. It should’ve felt like a victory. A lack of worrying about the future. This was supposed to be a _good_ moment.

Instead, all Lucifer could feel was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn’t right. They still had questions that needed answering. _This isn’t over_.

Never mind the questions that he now had thanks to Zachariah. _Torturing angels, bending them to your will…_ _And where did Cain learn it from? Who do you think Alistair learned it from?_

Zachariah had been so adamant, even in the midst of Michael’s unwavering support. The worst part was that Lucifer…didn’t remember. He’d gotten all of his memory back, all of the worst parts of the Cage, the good times before, but the parts when he’d had the Mark, it was…vague. Cloudy. It felt a lot like when Meg had possessed him. He’d remembered a lot of it, but not all of it. And now, now he had no real clue if he’d done the things he’d been accused of or not.

“Luce?”

Lucifer blinked and glanced up. Gabriel, Castiel, and Michael were all watching him, worry clear in their eyes. “You back?” Michael asked.

“Back?” he asked numbly. “Where did I go?”

“Somewhere,” Gabriel summed up. “We’ve been calling for a while. I mean, I’m used to being ignored, but-“

“Oh, shut up,” Lucifer told him, giving him a grin. Gabriel just shrugged but he looked less tense than he had been before. Castiel, too, seemed more relaxed. Only Michael kept watching him, concern making his brows knit together.

“What do we do with him?” Lucifer asked. The hunter part of him wanted to salt and burn the remains, but the angel part of him knew it wasn’t worth the time.

“Take him back up to Heaven, hang him as an example?” Gabriel asked whimsically. Castiel actually looked very interested in the idea.

“Ease off,” Michael warned, but his lips turned up. “Castiel, make sure the vessel’s soul got to where it needed to go, and take the body to where kin can find it. Gabe, you want to update Raphael, or should I?”

“Go back to Singer’s. I’ll do it. Take Space-Case with you.”

“Watch it,” Lucifer warned. “I’m still older than you.”

Gabriel made a face. “I sort of really hate that that’s true again, y’know.” He took off, wings taking him nearly halfway to Heaven in a single flap. Fastest flier of them all.

When he blinked, Castiel and Zachariah’s vessel were already gone, and Michael stood before him. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, still clearly worried. “You keep spacing out.”

“Just tired,” he said, and Lucifer gave way to Sam. “Guess that doesn’t change whether you’re an archangel or not.”

His brother snorted, all Dean. “Yeah. Let’s go back, update Bobby-“

“On what? Dean, we didn’t even get any answers.”

Dean made a face. “Even that’s sort of an answer, though. Zachariah’s gone, and he was protecting someone. He didn’t do this all on his own, and his ignoring the question just made it all the more obvious.”

That was a good point. One that Sam couldn’t believe he’d missed. “You really _are_ tired,” Dean said, and though it was with a grin, the worry was evident. Worry and concern and, above it all, love, came through as a flood of emotions. It made Sam smile. It felt like he was being embraced by his brother’s wings, something Michael had done constantly before the Cage. A good memory, one that he could have any time he wanted now.

A wing instantly wrapped around him and held him tight. “You could’ve asked,” Dean said quietly. He brushed a hand against Sam’s cheek and pushed hair back. “You want me to carry you back? It’s not like you’ve had a ton of flying practice lately.”

“I’m all right,” Sam promised, but he still leaned into both hand and wing. “Maybe follow me back?”

Dean gave him a warm smile. “Always, little brother.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to have this up earlier but I seriously screwed up my right wrist and typing hurts like a mofo right now. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

“Um. Wow.”

Dean glanced up from where he was stripping down the bed. Sam stood in the doorway of the panic room, eyes wide as he took it all in. “You really went to town on this, didn’t you?” he continued.

Oh. “You haven’t been down here since?”

“I don’t come down here at all if I can help it,” Sam admitted softly. It didn’t escape Dean’s notice that Sam had yet to step through the doorway.

Three days since Zachariah had bought the farm (a joke that _no one_ else had appreciated, the bastards) and they’d stayed at Bobby’s, rearranging his library and trying to mostly put his house back to order after the angels had trashed it. They could’ve just snapped fingers and done it, but they weren’t supposed to be doing a ton of that. The less Grace they used, the less noticeable they would be.

Sam had worked on the books upstairs, helping Bobby sort which ones were worth keeping and which editions could be replaced. Dean had kept himself downstairs and spent his time in the panic room. Or, really, what was left of the panic room. He’d sort of destroyed a good chunk of it in a fit of pique before he’d gotten his Grace back. Honestly if Death had just _told_ them…

Whatever. The room had needed redoing anyway. It couldn’t look like it had before. Not for Sam’s sake.

The fan above with the devil’s trap had been moved into two separate air vents now, with the devil’s trap hidden and the fan unable to disrupt the light. The room itself had been painted white, which had brightened the room considerably. They’d moved wooden shelves in instead of metal where they could, a table and chairs, cabinets that included alcohol and drinking glasses.

Beyond that, however, it was still the panic room. It wasn’t exactly like Dean could go all Martha Stewart on the place. Paint and cabinetry could only dress up what was there, new bed sheets could only do so much..Still, the urge to snap his fingers and manage everything tempted him. _Low profile,_ he reminded himself. _Raph begged for a low profile. Suck it up: you made it all this time without powers, you can do it again._

_You do know that I can hear you, right?_

“Brat,” Dean muttered. Sam just grinned. “Get out of my head.”

“Make me,” he teased, and Sam’s eyes were as bright as his smile. Dean’s own lips turned up, infected by the cheer of his little brother.

Cheer that…wasn’t quite right. Dean narrowed his gaze a little more and considered his brother. There was something else, something not quite right. He nudged his Grace towards Sam a little, letting it wrap around a part of his little brother. Just enough to say, _I’m here_. Because to anyone else, Sam looked perfectly fine.

Dean had never been anyone else. Not when it came to the kid he’d all but raised.

To his surprise, Sam neatly pushed his Grace away. “Seriously?” Dean said out loud.

“I’m fine,” Sam said, but he didn’t let Dean’s Grace come closer. “Just stop worrying for a bit, all right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean drawled. “I’ll get right on that.” Not worry about Sam. He’d have an easier time not breathing. Especially when his brother was acting so shifty.

_You can tell me anything,_ Dean told him. _You know that, right?_

At least the response he got was pure bitch-face, exasperated Sam. _Yes, Dean, I know. Just…give me some time, all right?_

Fair enough. “Want to help redecorate?” he asked.

Sam went very still, but Dean could see his wings for a moment, and they shifted nervously behind him. “Think I’ll leave that to you,” Sam said as brightly as he could. “You’ve got it down. Interior designer is a good career move for you.”

“Sam,” and he gestured towards the room. “At least step inside. Then you can step right back out-“

“It’s not that,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I know that, and I can do that, all right? That’s not the problem.”

“So why don’t you?”

Sam jumped at Gabriel’s voice from behind him, and instead of catching his step inside the panic room, he nearly bent himself in half trying to stay against the door and away from the room. Gabriel raised an eyebrow at his gymnastics. “No problem there,” Gabriel agreed. “Yup. I can see that. Don’t you, Dean-o?”

Sam’s face had taken on a brilliant shade of red at being so blatantly called out. “Sammy,” Dean began, but Sam waved him off.

“I just, uh, I’ll, um, I need to do something-“ and he hurried up the stairs beyond Gabriel. Dean watched him go, his stomach churning.

Gabriel let out a heavy sigh. “And here I was hoping to sort of get him inside so he’d see that it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Except it is,” Dean told him. “I think it’s worse, now, after the Cage.” Which just made him feel even shittier about leaving Sam alone in the panic room to face the withdrawal on his own. Wasn’t like the kid didn’t have abandonment issues and constantly felt like he was trapped or anything.

Gabriel flinched after apparently having heard that, and Dean let out a sigh this time. “He’ll be all right,” he said quietly. “Just gotta let him do something that’s not down here. Maybe a case or something.” They were still hunters. Just…hunters with a distinct edge. Might make for a fun time.

“You do know it wasn’t the panic room that was bothering him though, right?”

Dean glanced at his little brother. Gabriel’s eyes were too knowing and rimmed with gold. “You felt it too, huh?” he asked.

Gabriel gave a tight nod. “And have felt it, ever since Zachariah. There’s this little pulse of energy that’s been winding its way through his Grace, like an infected wound. The more he dwells on it, the worse it’s getting. He did that whole deep-thinking-spaced-out thing, remember?”

Now that Gabriel had named it, Dean did realize that he’d seen the dimming of Luce’s Grace, and it had started with Zachariah. He hadn’t forgotten how spaced out Sam had gotten. Sam had sidestepped the issue by saying he was tired. But it was clearly more than that.

“Wait him out, or face it head-on?” Gabriel asked.

Dean pursed his lips. “He’s not likely to want to talk about it off the get-go.” No, any chance of Sam bringing something like that to Dean’s attention on his own had been diminished over the years, especially since Ruby and Lilith and the stupid fucking voicemail that Sam still thought about. The instant that had run through his brother’s thoughts earlier, Dean had wanted to take his fist straight through Zachariah’s skull, because that was the last thing he wanted Sammy to ever think about again. And he had.

It just made him want to drag Zachariah out of the Empty in order to shove him back in again. His memory as Michael was nearly flawless now, so he could well remember the look on Sam’s face in the church that night, terrified but resigned, waiting for Dean to deliver the final blow. All because of Zachariah. And even though Sam knew it wasn’t real, it still sat in his thoughts. Fucking _Zachariah…_

“Wow, you’re all positive energy,” Gabriel said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, he pissed me off,” Dean snapped.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Clearly. So, after dinner? Some alcohol to loosen him up?”

There wasn’t enough alcohol in the house to do that. Gabriel snorted at the thought but grinned. “All right, fair enough. But after dinner would still work.”

It was the time Sam was most likely to sit down and not go anywhere. Coffee and some of those eclairs that Sam liked from Boston might do the trick. “Yeah,” Dean said and glanced at Gabriel. “That something you can take care of?”

“Be back in two shakes,” Gabriel promised, and shook his wings to prove it. Dean felt his lips turn up as he watched Gabe take off. Knowing Gabriel, he’d be back with not just eclairs but also some of those sour gummy worms that Sam liked. Gabriel was nothing if not willing to accommodate a sweet tooth. Finding out that Sam really had one beneath that penchant for salads had left Gabriel determined to exploit it.

His smile faded as he thought about Sam and whatever was eating at him. Whatever it was, he’d find out what it was, and he’d fix it. It was his thing.

The worst part was that even though he couldn’t remember, it continued to eat at Sam.

It wasn’t the sort of thing he could research or look up. It wasn’t in any book (not any that he could trust), and the only people he could ask might not even know the answer.

Or worse, they _would_ know the answer, and it would be what he feared: that he had done the things that Zachariah had accused him of. That he’d tortured angels, that he’d taught Cain and Alistair and all the rest how to hurt and torture others. That he’d ultimately given Alistair the horrible tools he’d needed to torture Dean in Hell.

Why couldn’t he _remember_?

He knew he hadn’t been nice or kind with the Mark. He knew that, and he remembered some of it, the things he’d said and done. But the terror that filled him came from not knowing everything he’d done. God, he’d thought that the demon blood had been beyond his brother’s capacity for love. That had only made him a monster. But if he’d done things that had affected the Host, the world, _his brother-_

He didn’t realize he’d started panicking until he could hear his own breathing, harsh and panting, in the room. It was just him, hiding upstairs, in the room that he typically shared with Dean. He could hear the others downstairs, going on about their lives, like he wasn’t the Devil incarnate and had apparently earned his title rightfully.

One breath, two. He forced himself to breathe as slowly as he could. His heart felt like a trapped bird in his chest, only fluttering faster the more he thought about it, and he tried to settle. He was an archangel, he was Lucifer, but more than that, he was Sam Winchester and he’d faced worse. He would not have a panic attack over this.

_Torturing angels, bending them to your will…_

Breathe in.

_And where did Cain learn it from?_

Breathe out.

_Who do you think Alistair learned it from?_

Had he done it? Had he given Alistair and Cain and all the other demons power and taught them how to torture souls? Had he done that, when he’d worn the Mark?

He let out a shaky breath and ran his hands through his hair. There was no way that Michael knew about whether he’d done this or not. Because if he had, he wouldn’t have forgiven Sam so willingly. Forgiven _Lucifer_.

He didn’t want to have done those things. He just wanted to be Michael’s little brother, be Dean’s little brother.

The gentle pressure of two Graces were suddenly there, like someone brushing against his shoulder, clearly reacting to his anxiety and trying to offer comfort. They didn’t know what the problem was but were determined to help as they could, and each one kept tapping closer and closer to his thoughts.

Without hesitation he threw up his inner shields and shoved them both out.

From downstairs he could hear the result. Gabriel’s loud, “ _Whoa_ , easy!” and Dean’s exclamation of, “What the _hell_?” came almost simultaneously, and both of them only made him feel worse. Hurried footsteps pounded up the stairs, and he realized suddenly that they were going to be in there, in the room, with him, and they were going to take one look at him and _know_.

So Sam Winchester, Lucifer Morningstar, great hunter and archangel, did something he didn’t usually do.

He panicked.

And then he disappeared.

By the time Dean threw the door open, he knew it was too late. He’d heard the sound of wings briefly but had hoped like hell that he’d get to Sam before his brother took off.

The empty room told him otherwise.

“Okay, seriously, what the hell is going on?” Gabriel demanded. “Did he just _block_ us?”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, he did,” he said with a sigh.

“But _why_?” Gabriel asked, bewilderment obvious in his tone. “It’s not like we were trying to pry or anything! I could feel him worrying about something so I gave him a nudge to let him know I was there, that was all! And I know you did too.”

“I did.” A part of him said he should’ve stuck with his gut and just let Sam simmer for a bit, but his own nerves had gotten the better of him. Because the last time Sam had been left to simmer, he’d thought a lot of horrible things and nearly died via suicide by demon. Dean had sort of been hoping to forestall that.

But the anxiety he’d felt suddenly emanating from the upstairs had been too much to ignore. He hadn’t intended on prying; all he’d wanted to do was let Sam know that they were there, that it was fine.

The wall he’d found slammed against him had left him feeling bereft and cold. Ever since they’d gotten their Graces back, they’d never blocked each other like that. They’d been open, and things had been better than ever. For Sam to shove him out just felt _wrong_.

A humming sound filled the room. “I can find him,” Gabriel said, and Dean glanced at him in time to see his eyes begin to glow. He reached out and quickly grabbed hold of his little brother’s shoulder, causing Gabriel to look up and frown. “What?”

“I’ll deal with him,” Dean told him. “Trust me, push too hard and Sam’ll clam up. Don’t push at all-“

“And bad things will happen. Yeah, I know. I _did_ follow you two around while you were human, y’know.”

True enough. “You know where to find him?” Gabriel asked, softer now.

He hadn’t, not really, not until Gabriel had asked. Then the answer seemed ridiculously simple and right in front of him. “Yeah, I do. Stay put and give me some time to talk with him. We might take a few days to just be for a bit.”

Gabriel didn’t seem to take offense to it, just nodded. “I’ll head up to talk with Raph, see if he’s got anything about what’s going on.” He paused, then added, quieter, “Just keep me posted, all right? I knew facing Zach was going to be hard, but something else is going on.”

That was sort of where Dean was trying very hard to _not_ go at the moment, but leave it to Gabriel to condense everything into a neat, blunt package. “I will,” Dean promised. “Stay safe.”

Gabriel just grinned, and with a shake of his head Dean took off. He’d bring the car later. Right now he just needed his little brother.

Okay, running away hadn’t probably been his best idea, but the thought of Dean and Gabriel in his thoughts had been terrifying. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t known when he was being buttered up and prepared for an inquiry: he’d recognized the box from that Boston bakery he liked, and he’d seen the gummy worms next to it.

Who’d have thought that Sam Winchester, “King of the Chick Flicks” according to his brother, would be trying to avoid talking about something?

He sighed and glanced around at where he’d actually wound up. Some abandoned warehouse district. It smelled like the Great Lakes. For some reason, he loved Lake Michigan. It always made him feel better. Maybe it was the memories associated with it: Dad had left him and Dean in a cabin along the lake for a full summer, and he and Dean had spent serious hours in the sand dunes, along the lakeshore, wandering the towns, even digging for the ghost town a few miles south. Dean had brought him here after Jess had died. He’d made some excuse about a hunt, but they’d camped out for almost a week. It was the first real sleep he’d gotten since the fire.

Which meant he had maybe all of ten minutes before Dean showed up. He sighed and hung his head. Awesome. Maybe there was somewhere that Dean wouldn’t think of-

“Sam? Sam _Winchester_?”

Sam turned at the voice, surprised. Four men stood before him, and he instantly placed all of them. Then he frowned, because what were the odds? “Tim, Reggie? …Walt and Roy?”

Walt raised an eyebrow. “Surprised you remember me,” he said. “It’s been a few years, kid.”

“Not really a kid anymore,” Sam said. All four of the men held guns, but they were hung low at their sides, relaxed. “Wait, what are you guys doing here?”

“Sorta on a hunt,” Tim said. He certainly hadn’t changed over the years, and Sam remembered him having shared a bottle or two with Dad more than once. “That’s what you’re here for, right?”

Of all the things for him to have dropped in on. “Just researching still,” he managed, trying to find his bearings. “Can I, uh, lend a hand?”

Reggie’s lips turned up in a grin. “That’d be great, man, yeah. C’mon this way, we’ll fill you in.”

Roy didn’t say anything, just nudged his head towards one of the buildings. Sam followed them inside to where they’d clearly set up shop, if the nearby table was any indication. Papers, herbs, and the smell of…something that Sam knew but couldn’t identify.

“This way,” Walt said curtly. He’d never been a man of many words, and he remembered Dad and Walt getting into it more than once. Then again, what hunter _hadn’t_ Dad gotten into a fight with at least once?

He still followed Walt towards the back of the room to where a map of the United States was hung. There were a few push pins in various places, none of which stood out to Sam. “What is this?” he asked. “What exactly is it you guys are hunting?”

At the silence, he turned around. All four men had made a semi-circle around him, and Sam felt his wings suddenly tense, ready to take off if need be. He could take four hunters, easy, but that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“You,” said Reggie, and he lit a match and tossed it onto the ground. Flames rose up in a circle around him, and Sam suddenly felt the sting against his skin, even as far from the flames as he was.

Holy oil. That was what he’d smelled.

This was bad. This was very bad. His wings felt tight like they were bound, and his Grace trembled within him, sick. _Michael, Gabriel,_ he called, but his voice echoed back to him. He was cut off.

“Me?” Sam asked, forcing himself to stay calm. “Guys, look, whatever that crack-up Gordon told you-“

“Oh no,” Tim said, shaking his head. “It wasn’t Gordon. Nah, he figured you for a demon, but we know the truth.”

“Truth?”

“About you,” said Reggie. “The demon blood, and why you needed it. To become the Devil himself.”

Sam froze. “It’s true, isn’t it?” Roy said, and he made a face. “Fucking disgusting. The hell is wrong with you?”

“It’s not true,” Sam said, forcing his voice to stay firm. “Guys, listen to me-“

“Then cross over the fire,” Tim said. “If you’re not an angel then you should come through just fine. Only angels can’t cross the flames without dying.”

Shit shit _shit_. “Look, Winchesters don’t exactly have the best track record with fire, okay?” Sam said, hands held up in surrender. “I lost my girlfriend to a fire, I lost my mom to a fire, it’s why I’m even in hunting to begin with. You ever think there might be another reason why I’m not going near the flames?”

For a moment, Tim and Reggie looked uncertain, and Sam watched them earnestly. Tim and Reggie had been good to Dean while Sam had been in college, good to Sam before he’d gone to Stanford. They were good hunters, good men-

The sound of a shotgun cocking made Sam whip his head over to Roy, who had his gun raised and aimed at Sam. “Whatever your reason,” he said, “I’m not letting Lucifer walk the earth for a minute more. That circle’s supposed to weaken an angel, let us do what we need to. And if you won’t do it, I got no problem with shooting you here and now.”

“I do.”

All four of the hunters whipped around, guns at the ready, aimed at the silhouette in the doorway. A single form leaned against the doorway casually, nonchalance at its best, but Sam would’ve known his big brother anywhere.

He could also see the wings that the others couldn’t, and they were unfurled and very, _very_ angry.

Dean had finally come.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the video that everyone in the Supernatural cast released showcasing the second half of the last season, I am having all the feels and figure y'all might be feeling the same way. So have some angst and then some brotherly fluff.

“Shit,” Tim muttered, and Sam couldn’t have summed it up more succinctly for them. Because his big brother was there and Sam had never been happier to see him in his life.

“So let’s talk,” Dean said. He pushed himself away from the doorway and sauntered into the room like he owned the place. Sam let himself relax a little. Dean wasn’t in a circle of holy oil. Dean could still get them out.

Because even though they might have vaguely figured Sam out, they had no clue that another archangel was in the building.

Reggie raised his hands in a placating manner. “Look, Dean, this doesn’t bring pleasure to any of us. But the Devil’s got your brother, and we’re not going to let him end the world. This circle of fire’s meant to contain any angel, even an archangel.”

“And how do you know that?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I’ve never read anything anywhere about how to contain an angel. That’d be a great text to have.”

“We didn’t get it out of a book,” Walt snapped. “We got it brought to us from a reliable source.”

Sam glanced at Dean, startled at that. Dean looked equally surprised but was better at hiding it. “Not really trustworthy there with some random ‘reliable source’, Walt,” Dean drawled. Walt pursed his lips, clearly pissed off, which was just the way Sam knew that Dean wanted him. Someone running on emotion was bound to make a mistake.

“Yeah, well, more reliable than you, Winchester,” Walt said. “I mean, lettin’ the Devil walk free because he’s wearing your brother? Man, that’s messed up.”

Dean dropped the casual manner in an instant, his eyes going cold. “I’m gonna say this one time so you better listen. There is no Devil here, and it sure as hell isn’t Sammy.”

“That’s not what we were told,” Tim said. He hefted his gun as if to remind Dean it was there. “We all know that Lucifer’s been let out of his prison.”

“’All’?” Dean glanced between the four of them. “Who is ‘all’?”

Reggie shook his head. “Everyone, man. We know what happened, all right? And we’re here to make sure it stops. We know you don’t want an apocalypse, who the hell does?”

“You said you were here for me,” Sam said suddenly, and the hunters whipped back around to him. Roy aimed his shotgun at Sam, center mass, and Dean’s wings suddenly rose up, taut and ready to move. “How did you know I’d be here?”

Tim sneered at him, apparently no longer uncertain. “We were tipped off. And so far, we haven’t been steered wrong.”

“You’ve been steered past wrong,” Dean snapped. “You don’t back away from him-“

“If you’re willing to defend the Devil, then you’re no better,” Reggie exclaimed, and Sam tensed, even though he couldn’t do anything about it. _Dean, be careful,_ he tried to send, but it only bounced back to him. He wondered if Dean was trying to talk to him and getting nowhere.

Was there any way to get out of a holy oil fire ring? Maybe he could push his way through and be hurt but Raphael could help-

“Back the hell off, _now_ ,” Dean threatened, his eyes flashing green with angry Grace. Tim and Walt startled, having apparently seen it, and their guns swung between Sam and Dean.

“What the hell are _you_?” Tim yelped.

Roy glanced his way for a split second before moving his focus back to Sam. “We’ll deal with you,” he said, and he pumped his shotgun. “But first, we’re doing the Lord’s work.” Then he pulled the trigger.

Dean moved, faster than was humanly possible, but Roy was too close to the flames, and the shot went past the fire ring before he could do anything. All of it happened in an instant, and Sam had no angelic speed, no archangel strength, nothing as it came at him.

It hit him in the chest and knocked him on his back. The pain was excruciating, leaving a hole in his chest, cutting through his heart and leaving him burning inside out. Blood sprayed everywhere, and he watched as his human soul drifted above his body. It wound up sheltered by his limited Grace, shielded by what looked like wings above him. He couldn’t really see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything. He thought he could hear shouting, thought he saw a bright light, but everything was blurry and going dark.

A great wind flew over him, and then bright green entered his vision. A familiar warmth embraced him, rushed through him, and he would know that Grace anywhere. _Michael_. His soul slid back to him at the same time as his Grace came fully back online, and he suddenly gasped in a breath.

Above him knelt Dean, eyes vividly green and full of so much fury and terror and _love_. “Luce, Sammy, Sam, _Lucifer_ ,” he was saying, hands still on Sam’s shoulders. “Sammy, Luce, fuck, please, _please_ -“

“M’here,” Sam said, and Dean hung his head with a shaky sigh. “I’m here. Almost wasn’t, but-“

“Don’t remind me,” Dean snarled. “God, Sammy, I saw your fucking _soul_ leave-“

“But it didn’t.” No, his Grace had kept him safe. Human and archangel combined. “I’m okay.”

Still, Dean held him up and got him to sitting. Only then did Sam get a good look around, and he wasn’t particularly surprised by what he saw.

All four of the hunters were in varying states of bloody and dead. Their eyes were burned out and it had probably happened in a matter of seconds. Too long by Michael’s count.

So much for a low profile. If Raphael didn’t yell at them both, it would be a miracle. Of course, Sam almost dying was probably a good motivator for ignoring the ‘don’t use your Grace’ edict.

His brother went stiff beside him at the mention of Sam’s near-death experience, so Sam cleared his throat. “Did they say who the source was?” he asked.

Dean gave him an incredulous stare. “You’re kidding me, right? Like I stopped and took the time to figure out what they think is a reliable source after they’d killed my little brother?’ He stopped and suddenly looked so sick that Sam thought he’d throw up. “Fuck, Sammy, they _killed you_ -“

Sam found himself inside of a tight hug with Dean’s fingers digging into his skin. He shut his eyes tight and clung back and realized his heart was racing only when one of Dean’s hands started moving up and down his back in a soothing manner. He swallowed hard and focused on breathing.

When they could finally let go of the other, Dean helped Sam to his feet. “You okay?” Dean asked roughly.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Pretty sure you even healed a papercut from back in second grade with that boost of Grace you did.”

“You were _dead_ ,” Dean growled. “The fuck was I supposed to do?”

The same thing Sam would’ve done, which was what Dean had done in the first place. He didn’t say anything – he didn’t have to. Dean grasped Sam’s shoulder and didn’t seem intent on letting go, and Sam was content to let him.

Still, it was hard to ignore what was in front of them. “We were right, though,” Sam said quietly.

“About?”

“No one should have that information about angels except angels. And they knew I’d be here. I didn’t even know I’d be here until I landed. How the hell could they have known that?”

Dean looked over the bodies and said nothing. Sam thought about what Roy had said before blasting Sam away. _The Lord’s work._ If he’d meant that literally…

“We knew Zachariah wasn’t the real power behind the plan,” Dean finally said. “This just cements it.”

_This isn’t over,_ Sam said, and he closed his eyes in relief when he could hear Dean answer him.

_No, but I’m damn well going to make it end. Watch me._

The bodies hadn’t been difficult to take care of. One snap of his fingers had ensured they were burned and gone. It had been interesting, to be able to see the souls disappearing. At least they wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon. Ever, if Dean had anything to say about it.

If Dean hadn’t found Sam, if Dean hadn’t been able to see Sam’s soul wrapped tightly within Lucifer’s Grace, if Dean hadn’t managed to blow the fire out with the flap of all of his wings, if if if-

Never mind the fact that Zachariah hadn’t been the end of this apocalypse crap and that someone else was still pulling strings, which apparently now included siccing hunters on his brother.

Well, there was only one good thing that had come out of this, and that was the fact that as a human, Sam couldn’t be killed. If it hadn’t been for the holy oil, he probably would’ve managed to heal himself. As it was, his Grace had been confined and lessened. He would’ve healed on his own, but Dean had made sure of it.

And this was all on top of the reason why Sam had run off in the first place, which Dean _still_ didn’t know. Currently they were both sitting on a sand dune above Lake Michigan, watching a spectacular sunset. He’d known exactly where Sam would run to, if he was stressed and looking for solace. The one good place where they’d shared a summer together and just been two boys with nothing to do.

The only thing he hadn’t planned on was finding Sam surrounded by four hunters, all while trapped in a ring of holy oil. How the hell he’d managed to get himself into trouble when he’d been gone maybe ten minutes, he had no clue. Only Sam.

The ‘reliable source’ knew way too much about angels, too. Dean figured that the hunters had known where Sam would be because of the reliable source, too, and that, that required some serious planning and lots of lucky guesses. It made no sense for them to know where Sam would wind up.

He didn’t like it. Any of it.

He glanced at his brother and found Sam watching the lake. He knew his mind was anywhere except on the dark waves. The sun ahead of them was sinking beyond the horizon, and Dean felt the chill of the night closing in around them. He wrapped three of his wings around his little brother and felt Sam’s Grace respond by leaning into him.

There were a myriad of questions he wanted answered, but he only had one he was probably going to get in the next several minutes. “You want to tell me why you took off?” he asked.

Sam let out a long sigh, but the block was still firmly in place. “Whatever it is, you’ve been off since we dealt with Zachariah,” he continued. Sam winced and turned away, but Dean tugged with his wings and kept Sam close. “C’mon, Sammy, talk to me.”

For a long moment, Sam didn’t say anything. “Lucifer,” he called, letting Michael take over for a moment, and his little brother shut his eyes tight and hung his head.

“I’m just…afraid,” Sam admitted. “And I can’t…”

“Afraid? Of what?”

Sam bit his lip hard enough that Dean thought he’d bleed. Then, finally, in the smallest voice Dean had heard in a long time, Sam whispered, “Of you. Of what you’d say.”

For a moment, Dean just stared at him. Unease made his heart speed up and left his stomach twisting. “What I’d say?”

“Zachariah,” Sam told him. “What he said, about what, what I did. With the Mark. I can’t, Michael, I can’t remember everything and I think…” He buried his face in his hands. “I just, I couldn’t, and I-I panicked.”

“Why didn’t you just say something?” Dean asked softly. He made sure to pitch his voice in a way that wasn’t patronizing or angry or whatever else Sam might think he was, because he wasn’t any of those things. Worried as hell, yeah, he was guilty of that. But nothing else.

Sam still didn’t seem to take it well, and from his hunched shoulders, it was clear that Sam wasn’t reading him right. It made Dean want to resurrect Zachariah just to kill him again. They’d been good, better than good, and then they’d faced off against the douche nozzle and Sam had been chewed up all over again. Never mind reminded of a fake voicemail that had caused Sam to doubt how much Dean cared, loved him.

They weren’t going backwards, though, Dean wouldn’t let them. They were moving forward. And he knew how.

He gently tapped at Sam with his Grace and then let it wrap around his brother like a blanket. Every part of himself was in that, and Sam could feel all of it. The worry, the concern, the questions he couldn’t find the words to. Above it all was the warmth of his love for Sam, for Lucifer. His little brother, no matter what name he went by.

Sam took a deep breath and Dean felt the block disappear. Lucifer’s Grace tentatively extended the same feelings that Dean’s had given, but instead of worry and concern, it was this maelstrom of emotions, and none of them good. Panic and anxiety and fear and self-loathing dimmed the usually brightest of Graces, enough that Dean flinched at the onslaught. “Kiddo,” he said helplessly, then swallowed hard. “Sammy.”

“I think I did it,” Sam whispered brokenly. “I think, I think I did those things that Zachariah said I did. And if I taught Cain and Alistair, then-“

“The Mark was possessing you,” Dean said firmly, trying not to let his anger show because it wasn’t aimed at Sam, dammit, it was all for Zachariah and the seeds of doubt he’d managed to plant in Sam _again_. The voicemail hadn’t been enough, he’d had to make Sam doubt Dean, _fear_ him, all over again? “Whatever you did with the Mark, it wasn’t your choice. You were being infected by the Darkness. You know that.”

“So you don’t know either,” Sam said, face still hidden. “What I really did. He said I tortured angels, Dean, taught Alistair-“

And that was the biggest crux of it. Because Sam already felt guilty over Dean going to Hell and suffering because of the deal. If he’d given Alistair the tools to torture souls, then the years that Dean endured under Alistair’s hands was Sam’s fault, too.

Except that wasn’t true. “Luce, listen to me,” he said. He gently tugged at his little brother’s hands until his face was free. Lucifer’s eyes shone red like the fading sunlight, and they were brimming with tears. He brushed a few free and let his Grace come forward. “I have never blamed you for my years in Hell. I made that deal of my own volition. And I would do it again in a heartbeat.

“So whatever you did under the Mark, it doesn’t count, all right? If I had taken the Mark instead, and I’d done bad things, would you blame me now?”

“No,” Lucifer whispered. “Michael, you know I wouldn’t.”

“Then don’t blame you,” Michael said. He brushed one last stray tear aside and gave Lucifer a smile. “I don’t. And for the love of all that’s holy do _not_ let Zachariah needle you. He’s dead. Let everything he did go. The voicemail, his accusations, all of it.”

Shame came through Lucifer’s Grace, shame wrapped around how he couldn’t seem to get the voicemail out of his mind, and Michael just pulled Lucifer in for a proper hug. “Let it go, little brother,” he murmured. “It wasn’t me. It will never be me.”

“I know,” Lucifer whispered after a moment, and Michael held him all the tighter.

They stayed that way until the sun disappeared completely. Only then did he stand and pull Lucifer up with him. His little brother wiped at his face, Sam pulling himself together, and it was Dean who tugged him back down the dune. “C’mon,” he said, “let’s grab a hotel for the night. Take a few days, just hang out for a bit.”

“With everything that’s happened-“

“Even more a reason,” Dean insisted. “You and me, driving around, maybe even finding a case. Gabe knows, and he’s going up to talk with Raph. We’ll meet up with them later. Until then, we’re officially on break.”

A small smile began to spread across Sam’s face, and he finally nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “You’re gonna need the car, though.”

He just grinned. “That’s the easy part.” Everything was easier when you could deliver it via angel express.

When they got down off the dune and to the parking lot and found the Impala waiting for them, Sam’s smile only grew. Yeah. A good meal, some sleep, and he’d be able to keep that smile on his little brother’s face.

After everything they’d fought for, it wasn’t going to mean a damn thing. Because in the end, the Cage was open again and Sam was going to wind up back inside of it. Dean was holding back as much as he could, wings working double-time to keep them out of the Cage, but his grasp on Sam’s wrist was slipping. The pull of the Cage was just too strong.

With a growl he fought to keep Sam out, but Sam’s grip was weakening. It felt like he wasn’t even holding on anymore. And that was when Dean realized that Sam _was_ relaxing his grip.

“I’ve got it,” Sam said, eyes shimmering with tears, lips trembling but giving a smile that made Dean want to die. “I’ve got it, Dean. It’s going to be okay.”

“Sam-!”

In an instant Sam let go, and Dean couldn’t hold on. He desperately grasped at air as Sam fell into the Cage, sucked down and down until he couldn’t see his brother anymore. The darkness swallowed him up, and then the hole began to close around it.

He could still hear Sam’s scream of pain, unending, before it closed for good and sealed Sam into the Cage forever.

Then he shot upright, gasping for air, eyes burning. The room was cool and dark around them, but Dean still immediately saw Sam in the other bed. Alive, breathing, _there_. Safe. Not in the Cage.

As if sensing his distress Sam woke and glanced around blearily until he saw Dean. “You ‘kay?” he mumbled. “Dean?”

Dean only realized he was panting whenever Sam sat up, shaking off sleep entirely. “Dean? What happened?” he asked.

Whether it was because of the nightmare or the hunters the night before, he didn’t know, but he was suddenly, absolutely _furious_. He grabbed a pillow and flung it at Sam, hitting him square in the middle of his face. “Hey!” Sam sputtered, tossing it aside. “What the hell?”

“You let go,” Dean snarled, rising on unsteady legs that were already being buffeted by his wings. He knew his Grace was just as angry and it was going to start glowing in the room but he couldn’t help himself, because he was beyond angry, he was enraged, he was _terrified_. “You fucking _let go_.”

Sam didn’t argue with the point, didn’t ask what Dean was even talking about because he knew, but instead he pushed himself up from the bed as well and met Dean in the middle, eyes flaring red. “And you wouldn’t,” Sam hissed. “I told you to let go and you didn’t, you were going to fall in with me. You think I haven’t had enough nightmares about that and you coming down into, into, into that _place_ with me, trapped down there, having it suffocate you and tear your wings off and-“

“You think I’m not imagining the same thing?” Dean shouted. “I almost lost you to that godforsaken hole and you let go!”

The room began to shake. Probably his fault. Probably Sam’s. He didn’t really care right now. Not when his heart was still pounding and the image of his little brother letting go was still in his mind. The asshole hunters hadn’t helped things, and the sound of the shotgun going off still echoed in his mind. If he hadn’t had his Grace restored, Sam would’ve been dead. If Michael hadn’t shown up, Lucifer would’ve been trapped in that fire ring.

“I had to!” Sam told him, but the red had faded from his eyes. “I couldn’t let you go in there, Michael. I couldn’t. It was better me than you.”

He shook his head, his own anger fading to nothing. “Never better,” he said. The light from his pissed off Grace was gone, and the room no longer shook. From the other rooms in the motel he could hear people waking, frightened, and he sent them back to sleep. Wasn’t their fault they’d been woken by two raging archangels.

“Michael-“

“Listen to me, and listen to me good,” Michael said. He reached out and cupped the sides of Lucifer’s face, then brought their foreheads together. Lucifer’s wing hesitantly brushed his and Michael wasted no time in wrapping his wings around his little brother.

Safe. Sam, Lucifer, little brother: he was safe. And Michael would do anything to keep it that way.

“I will always be with you,” he said quietly. “And I will always find you. I’m not leaving you again. You’re stuck with me. So if you had to go back to the Cage, I was coming with you.”

Lucifer’s face twisted in misery. “And I would’ve done anything to ensure I didn’t drag you down,” he said, voice equally soft. “Anything. Even…even if it meant going back in myself forever.”

It was nothing short of humbling, sometimes. What Lucifer was willing to do for him. What he was willing to give up in order to protect Michael. The thing that had terrified Luce, left him without sleep, left him frozen and without breath just from the _nightmares_ , and he’d been willing to drop himself back into it to save his big brother.

Dad had called Sam selfish numerous times. Dean had, unfortunately, said the same a few times. It was nowhere close to true.

“Well, you’re not going to,” Michael promised. He met Lucifer’s gaze firmly. “You hear me? Not now, not ever. You’re not going anywhere without me. I go where you go.”

Lucifer’s face twisted, but he finally gave a nod. “And I go with you,” he said. “Together. Though if I’m in trouble-“

“Even more reason to stick together,” Michael said with a raised eyebrow. “Nice try, Luce.”

It was clear that Lucifer hadn’t really figured it would work but had needed to try all the same. It wasn’t even like he could blame his little brother: he’d have done the same thing. But they’d both effectively proven that they worked better together, not apart.

“So, together,” Michael said, half as a question, and Lucifer finally nodded. The rueful smile was all Sammy.

“Yeah, together. It’s not that I don’t want to do this together, I do, I just-“

“Yeah, I know,” and it was all Dean who grinned back. “I get it. We stick together and everything’ll be just fine.”

Sam gave him a look. “Are you saying shit that’s going to jinx us?”

“Probably. What can I say, I’m feeling optimistic. Don’t ruin it.” He nudged Sam and flopped back into his bed. “You mind if I put the TV on low?”

His little brother watched him for a minute, then shook his head with a smile. Sam smiled more now that he’d been rejoined with his Grace, the last few days following Zachariah’s death aside. It was nice to see. “I don’t mind, but turn it up so I can hear it. And move over.”

“I’m fine Sam, seriously, get some sleep if you can.”

“Dean, how many nights have you stayed up with me watching crap late-night creature features after I had a nightmare?”

A lot. Enough that Dean knew way more about those stupid movies than anyone ever should, but they never sucked so much if someone watched with him. Like a little brother who always giggled like a schoolgirl whenever the monster flailed on screen. “I don’t have popcorn to offer you,” Dean said as a last-ditch effort to let Sam sleep.

He should’ve known better. Sam shoved him over and settled in beside him in the bed. He paused, glanced up to the ceiling, winced, and then before Dean could do more than frown at his weird behavior, Sam snapped his fingers. A bowl of fragrant popcorn appeared in his lap, and Sam gave a triumphant smirk.

Dean glanced at his brother with a raised eyebrow. “Did you just…use your Grace to make popcorn appear?”

“Gabe taught me how,” Sam said almost defensively. “Well, taught me how to make the best popcorn appear. It’s not that hard. I could show you.”

The popcorn smelled divine, something more than just butter, and he immediately placed it as bacon cheddar, the kind that Gabriel had gotten Dean hooked on. Sam’s favorite was garlic salt which, while okay, wasn’t anywhere near Dean’s favorite.

Something warm filled his chest and echoed through his Grace. He didn’t have the words like Sam did, not even as Michael, but he’d always been good with actions. He unfurled his wings and wrapped them around Sam and pulled the kid’s head down onto his shoulder. “Don’t hog my blankets,” he said, and he let his emotions fill the unspoken space, let Sam feel them. _Love you, little brother_.

Sam didn’t say anything but he could all but feel the smile he gave. Dean settled in with his brother and turned on the TV.

They’d deal with everything tomorrow. Tonight, they were two brothers sharing some damn good popcorn and a really bad movie.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone enjoyed the fluff of the last chapter, right? It was lovely, right?
> 
> Okay, good. Shore yourselves up. We're heading towards an ass-load of angst.

Whatever it was that had set Sam off, it didn’t seem to be causing any problems now. At least, any that Gabriel could detect. While he’d been dying to fly off after Sam and figure out what the hell the problem was himself, especially after the _massive_ surge of Grace he’d felt from the western side of Michigan that had been all from a very angry Michael, he’d taken Dean’s sent, _It’s fine, we talked, I handled it,_ as gospel and left it alone. Besides, if Sam was taken care of, that gave him time to chat with Raphael.

He was vaguely surprised to find Raphael’s rooms empty when he reached Heaven. “Raph?” he called. He didn’t need to use angel radio for something as random as saying hello, but he had to admit, Raph not being where he should’ve been was disorienting. “Raphael?”

Nothing. “Fine, make me work,” Gabriel muttered. He closed his eyes and let his Grace seek out his brother’s. There were Sam and Dean on Earth, safely sleeping while something that looked like a really bad monster movie played. He absently turned the TV off, grinned fondly at the two of them, raised an impressed eyebrow at the empty popcorn bowl that Sam must’ve conjured up (props to the kid, Gabriel had only taught him that trick the other week), and went searching again.

The halls of Heaven were far more crowded than he remembered. Most angels went about their business but the ones who noticed him tended to fawn. It was nothing short of embarrassing, honestly, but Michael definitely enjoyed making him squirm. “It’s what you get for convincing everyone you were dead,” he’d said with a smirk that had been all Dean Winchester. “Deal with it, Gabe.”

Thankfully, there was very little of that at the moment. None of the Graces stood out to him, though, none of them ringing with the higher resonance of an archangel’s Grace. So not in the main section, then. Where the hell…?

He paused, then rolled his eyes and immediately turned around. “Of course you would,” he muttered. Of course Raphael wouldn’t have waited for them. Of course he’d be trying to deal with Naomi and the angels in need of reeducation by himself, even though Michael and Lucifer _and_ Gabriel had all told him to wait, that he didn’t need to do this by himself. Guilt ran heavy through all of them, and the need to make amends, no matter whether it was deserved or not, was something they all shared. Of all the traits that Dad had seen fit to give them…

Nope, not thinking about Dad or the lack thereof, not now. Gabriel had enough on his mind as it was. He made his way down to the farther reaches of Heaven with a quick wing, and there was Raphael’s Grace, visible and bright.

Right next to Naomi’s Grace, nowhere near as bright, but definitely defiant and strong. Gabriel muttered a curse that was probably less than holy and shoved the door open.

Raphael didn’t look surprised to see him, but Naomi did. She was seated at a table, a glare on her face, but it disappeared the instant she saw Gabriel. While it wasn’t exactly adoration, there was definite awe on her face. “Hi sis,” Gabriel said cheerfully. “How ya been?”

“I’m not particularly pleased with being confined as I am to these rooms,” she said icily. “Raphael, I told you, I had nothing to do with it-“

“Lying does not become you,” Raphael snapped. “I know you’ve done reeducations.”

“Because I was told to do it! I didn’t do it as my own idea!”

“That’s not a surprise,” Gabriel said. “You don’t have a single original thought in that head of yours, though Dad above knows you’ve tried.”

A flush spread across her face, only heightening the narrowing of her eyes. Her vessel would even have been considered pretty, with its short-cropped hair and pristinely fitted business suit, if it wasn’t for the sneer on her face. “You’ve had enough original thoughts for all of us, Gabriel. Or should I say Loki? What were you thinking, turning to the pagans, defiling yourself in that manner?”

“Feeling a lot more familial love than I had up here,” Gabriel retorted. “But enough about me, how about you? Zachariah’s dead, by the way, but he coughed up some interesting information before he went.”

Naomi went pale at that. Raphael seemed to glow with triumph and _my_ wasn’t that a vindictive streak his older brother had. _Proud of you, Raph, never knew you had it in you,_ he prayed directly to his brother, and Raphael rolled his eyes.

“So,” Gabriel said, and he spun a chair around to sit on it backwards. “One last chance to come clean, trying to argue your side.”

“Who killed him?” Naomi asked. Interesting.

“Michael. He was trying to mess with Lucifer.” Wouldn’t be too wrong to tip his hand a little, see what she had to say.

Naomi shook her head. “How Michael can support Lucifer after what he did, I don’t understand. I am…bewildered by Michael’s constant mercy towards the Traitor.”

“Lucifer is no traitor,” Raphael said firmly. “He had his hand forced by the Mark of Darkness, the Mark that became Cain’s. He did not make his choices of his own volition. You, however, did.”

“I did as was ordered by God,” Naomi declared. “That prophecy was set down millennia ago because of the wickedness in Lucifer’s heart and Grace. It was right for Michael to cast him down and it would be right for Michael to kill him, end his evil for good!”

“And what did reeducating angels get you?” Gabriel asked. “A Host, ready to do your bidding?”

“What good are angels if they don’t listen?” Naomi asked, looking at Gabriel as if _he_ were the one who’d lost his marbles. “We were made to serve God’s orders. If we can’t be trusted to do that much, then we’re as good as Fallen.”

The truth of it was, she wasn’t completely wrong. Angels _were_ meant to deliver and abide by God’s Word. The problem was, what happened when Dad took a sabbatical and left them without orders?

Raphael cleared his throat, catching Gabriel’s attention. Oh, right, still his court. “And humanity? What’s wrong with them?”

Naomi hesitated. “They…have their flaws,” she finally said, but it sounded forced, as if she’d had to repeat it a number of times to herself. Gabriel and Raphael exchanged a glance. “They’ve been too long without order themselves. I don’t know why we haven’t taken their free will back. It’s done them no good.”

“Actually, I think it’s done them far more good than you think. They do crap things, don’t get me wrong, the music of the recent pop scene proves that, but they also do good just because they can. Even when it doesn’t benefit them, they do good for the hell of it.” Gabriel leaned in and had the satisfaction of watching Naomi shrink back. “Is that a sin worth dying for?”

Naomi slumped in her chair. “I didn’t completely agree with Zachariah about that,” she finally admitted. “But he was getting his orders from Raphael, and I assumed Raphael was getting them from God.”

“You mean you both gave me orders after I’d been reeducated,” Raphael said, but Naomi cut him off.

“You begged to forget. Don’t put that blame on me. You made that choice.”

“And you kept making it for him after that,” Gabriel pointed out. He jerked his head towards the door, and Raphael followed him out, leaving Naomi alone. He glanced back at her before they left and found her glaring at the table, hands clenched into fists in her lap. Her eyes looked as if they were glistening for a second, but then she blinked and it was gone.

Slowly the door shut behind them. Only once it was closed did he turn to Raphael. Raphael looked tired, eyes shut tight. “You okay, bro?” Gabriel asked. “’Cause I mean, I can get a sofa brought in, some fans, maybe some grapes…”

Finally Raphael grinned, though he still looked tired. “I’m not entirely certain that those things would help me, but I’m appreciative of your efforts. I can rest when this is figured out.”

“Yeah, about that,” Gabriel said, and Raphael groaned.

“No. Not here. I need something to drink first.”

“Very human of you,” Gabriel teased, but inside he was already figuring what he’d conjure up for his brother. Raphael wouldn’t admit it, but he’d developed a soft spot for raspberry Earl Grey tea that Sam had shared with him the other day. He also liked cherry pie and _that_ was all Dean’s fault.

They made their way back to the archangel rooms, and Gabriel wasted no time in snapping up two hot mugs of tea and some slices of pie. Raphael just shook his head but his smile was all gratitude. He settled down opposite Gabriel and took a sip from his mug. “You said Zachariah’s dead,” he said. “What about that surge of Grace I felt not long ago? Michael sent a quick missive that everything was fine but the emotions I felt were _not_ fine. Was that from Zachariah?”

“No, Zach’s been dead for a few days. I’ll ask him what was up with that surge tomorrow,” Gabriel promised. “As far as I know, Dean said it was handled.” The curiosity would kill him first but he’d trust his big brother.

Raphael made a face but let it go. “Tell me about Zachariah,” he said instead.

Gabriel took a long pull from his mug (heavily laced with whiskey, and that was…mostly Singer’s fault) and began to recount their meeting with Zachariah. Refusing to back down, insisting he was the savior of Heaven, and not giving up the name of his partner. Compatriot. Asshole willing to go with him. Whatever.

Raphael was definitely frowning by the time he finished. “And you think Naomi was the other partner?”

Gabriel made a face. “I wish. But what we heard in there? She’s part of it but more of a follower, not a leader. She wants to follow orders. I don’t even think she was reeducated. She just did as she was told.”

“I feel as if that’s more dangerous,” Raphael murmured. “I’ve met a few angels like that in my search to undo the reeducations. I have a list to give to Michael, Lucifer, and you. Just in case.”

The last thing they needed was a _real_ rebellion on their hands. “You get anything else out of Naomi before I cut in?” Gabriel asked.

“Not much else. She has no idea that anyone besides me and Zachariah were leading any charge. I don’t sense any deceit out of her. Honestly, if she hadn’t been so focused on doing what Zachariah told her, I’d count her as a strong ally, and one who could do good.” He pursed his lips and tossed his hair behind him. “Not with how she currently feels about Lucifer, though. I won’t let her out or near him.”

That Gabriel could agree with a hundred percent. “Let’s not and say we didn’t,” he said, then downed the rest of his mug. “Any good ones out of the bunch?”

“Sidria, Ezekiel, Anael. Many of the young ones like Samandriel. There are still a lot of good angels. It gives me hope,” Raphael admitted.

It’d be nice to take some good news to the two big brothers down on Earth. Give something to Cassie, too, the little bloodthirsty thing. It made Gabriel grin at the thought. Kid had done some growing up lately, and Gabriel was proud to see the streak of vengeance in him.

Okay, other angels probably wouldn’t consider that a strong trait, but Gabriel did. Mikey probably would, too. Being Dean had loosened him up a great deal.

He stood and stretched his wings. “I’ll touch base with Michael, then. How soon until we can get Luce up here?”

“With the way most angels feel, sooner than I’d anticipated, but until we have an idea of where to find this partner of Zachariah’s…”

Better safe than sorry. “Yeah, good point.”

Raphael suddenly sat up straighter. “I almost forgot. Naomi said something about a town in Pennsylvania,” he said. “Something about it being important to Lucifer’s plans. I was going to ask Sam if he knew the relevance and they could check it out.”

His mind went back to his older brothers, still sleeping, and shook his head. “I’ll handle it. Leave ‘em be. Sam was…really upset after Zachariah’s mouth ran off on him. It looked like Dean had managed to get him settled. I’ll check it out and get back to you if I find out anything.”

Raphael nodded but looked concerned, the sort that made his brow furrow all the way together. Gabriel wondered if his brother knew just how damn transparent he could be. “What?” Gabriel asked.

“I didn’t know that he was upset,” Raphael said at last. “Zachariah hurt him?”

“With something he said. I don’t know what left a mark from the crap he spewed.” Though he could take a few guesses, knowing Sam as he did. “Whatever it is, I just wanna leave them alone for a bit. Let me do the heavy digging and then we can get them involved if this isn’t a goose chase.” He paused before he left, glancing back at Raphael. “Why don’t you drop in on them tomorrow morning? I’ll swing by with whatever I find, we can all catch up. I’ll bring doughnuts.”

It sounded so ridiculously easy, that he could have his brothers under one roof, together, just sharing breakfast. It was more than he could’ve ever hoped for, and here it was, actually happening. It was enough to nearly take his breath away.

Warmth wrapped around him, the sort that felt like a smile. “I am grateful to have all of you back, too,” Raphael said, and there was the smile like Gabriel had thought. “But I’m especially glad to have you, little one. Even as lost as I was with the reeducation, I still missed you and mourned you. They couldn’t take that from me.”

The smile dropped a little, shame taking the place of the warmth, and Gabriel knew exactly what his brother was thinking about. “He’s not angry about it,” he said. “Luce couldn’t hold a grudge if he tried, and Sam’s no better. Trust me.”

“It still upsets _me_ ,” Raphael said. He let out a sigh. “I would’ve let Michael slaughter him and never felt anything but acceptance. He’s my little brother, our bright one, and they made me forget everything good about him.”

It made Gabriel want to hunt Zachariah down and pummel him again. Except he was dead, beyond where Gabriel could even find him. Still, just thinking about the spike of anxiety before Sam had taken off, the way Zach had twisted everyone against Sam, had nearly had Dean turn against him-

“Deep breaths,” Raphael warned with a hint of amusement. “I feel the same way, but he’s dead now.”

“Yeah, and he took all the damn answers with him.” He pursed his lips and glanced at the door. “You sure I can’t take another crack at Naomi?”

“There’s no point. Go look at Pennsylvania, see what you can find. Then we’ll all talk in the morning.”

He sort of hated when his brothers were all logical and non-smite-y. This was exactly why Gabriel should never be responsible for anything. “I’m good, I’m gone,” he said, and with a flourished salute he tucked his wings and let himself drop down towards Earth.

He had a weak spot for Pennsylvania. Call it an attachment to the Quakers and Amish for their determination to continue on as they always had, or to Philadelphia for their cheesesteak sandwiches, or the way the landscape changed from one end of the state to the other. Whatever it was, Pennsylvania was fun. He’d played a lot of pranks in Pennsylvania.

For right now, though, he followed the tendril of thought that Raphael had given him, and he found himself in Scranton. “Been a while,” he said with a grin as he landed in the middle of a dark and empty road. Looked like the town had closed up for the night but would be alive soon enough: the sun was almost ready to break over the horizon. The last time he’d been here, he’d been wandering around in the latest fashion right before Michael had found him and told him about Lucifer and the Cage.

The thought made his lips curl up. Why everyone was so damn hyper-focused on his brother and making him suffer, he had no damn clue, but he was getting really tired of it. He just wanted Luce to be able to come _home_ already. Hopefully, whatever Naomi had found down here would help them do just that.

Problem was, he wasn’t really sure of _what_ , exactly, he was supposed to be looking for.

He started with the obvious: anything that had been touched by Grace. There were trace elements but nothing that had been recent enough to warrant Lucifer’s attention. He nearly groaned when he realized his mistake. No angels: Lucifer would’ve been expected to lead demons.

As soon as he went to feel for a demonic presence, the world suddenly exploded with darkness everywhere. Gabriel felt his blade fall into his hand, ready to deal out some serious pain. How the hell were there this many demons and no one had felt anything yet?

Something cold hit his wrist and he jerked away, startled at the touch that had come out of nowhere. He spun around and immediately thrust his blade forward, straight into the demon. Black eyes lit up in pain before the body hit the ground. He managed to catch sight of what the demon had held in its hands before his heart stopped. The manacles, lit up with sigils and Enochian. He froze for a split second.

It was long enough for the manacles to suddenly fly off the ground and into someone’s hand. Gabriel set himself back into a fight stance but the figure in front of him wasn’t racing forward. He was sauntering instead, a slow walk as if he weren’t all that bothered about an archangel in front of him.

He wouldn’t be. Fucking asshole, how the hell hadn’t Gabriel seen him coming-

“I wish I could have hand-delivered the glistening bracelets myself,” he drawled. “I do prefer the term ‘bracelets’ instead of ‘manacles’. Don’t you?”

“You,” Gabriel breathed. His eyes flared gold. “I should’ve known you were involved, you slimy son of a bitch-“

“You didn’t like my gift?” The figure gave a chortle. “And here I spent a lot of time etching pretty designs into the inside and everything. What a waste.”

Gabriel tightened his grip on his blade. “Where did you even find the manacles? Because I was pretty sure I put them away somewhere dark and deep.”

He got a smirk for that. “But I live for the dark and deep. Work on your hiding spots. That, or just accept the fact that I’m four steps ahead of you.”

Something sharp hit him in the back, something that burned, and he quickly spun around and batted it out. A Molotov cocktail that hadn’t quite set off, and he could smell the holy oil. The three demons behind him had two more in their hands.

Shit. Fuck shit he had to move and he needed to do it _now_. “You halfwits,” he heard, and he didn’t waste any time, just shot his Grace out around him. The demons ahead of him screamed as they burned and he didn’t bother looking behind him. It wouldn’t do a damn thing to him but would give Gabriel time to get out.

His wings felt wrong though, charred, and he couldn’t get two of them to work right. He took off at a run as fast as he could. His legs felt numb, his back hurt with every panted breath, and he had to get out of there, find a car, somewhere where he could get a running start with his wings, something, anything-

A spike of pain shot through him and then he couldn’t breathe. He stumbled to his knees and couldn’t get any of his wings to work. When he coughed, he tasted blood. Crawling now, he kept making his way down the dark and empty street.

Two shoes met his vision, and Gabriel blearily lifted his head. A sharp smile met him. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It won’t kill you. But it will certainly keep you pinned for a bit. Here, let me help.”

The pain lurched through him and he thought he might’ve screamed. Then a bloody spear met his vision, and the handle came down towards his head.

He gave one final scream, one desperate jumbled bunch of thoughts in an attempt to get help, and then everything went black.

_MICHAE-!_

Dean snapped awake and froze. He could swear that the scream still echoed in his mind across angel radio. He’d never heard a scream like it before and he never wanted to hear one like it again. Fear and pain and panic, all wrapped around a voice and song he knew too well.

Gabriel.

A second later, Sam threw open the door of the bathroom and came racing out. “What the _fuck_ was that?” he asked, sounding shaken.

Dean closed his eyes and reached for the song and harmony that was all Gabe, but he couldn’t find it anywhere. Frowning, he tried harder, but there was nothing to be found. “Gabriel,” he called. Nothing happened. _Gabriel where are you? Gabriel! Answer me!_

No resounding harmony, no song, nothing. Just emptiness where there had never been emptiness before.

He wasn’t even surprised by the sound of wings when Raphael landed a minute later. “What happened?” Raphael demanded. “I heard it all through Heaven, _everyone_ heard it. Michael, what happened?”

“I don’t know. Still trying to figure it out.” And fast. Because whatever the hell had just happened to Gabriel, it was bad.

“Can you see where he was? Where the voice emanated from?” Sam asked. He had already moved to the computer and was flipping it open. “If you can give me anything, I might be able to track down where he was.”

“It’s not like I can use my archangel powers like Mapquest,” Dean snapped. Snapping at Sam wasn’t going to help anything, but right now, it was easier to be angry than it was to be afraid. Because he was afraid. He was very, _very_ afraid.

“Pennsylvania,” Raphael said suddenly. “He, he was checking out a lead in Pennsylvania, but I don’t know where. Gabriel aimed that message at you, Michael. What was in it?”

Terror. Heart-rending terror and pain that stole the breath from his body. They’d hurt Gabriel, hurt him in such a way that he couldn’t fly. They’d burned his wings and hindered him enough that he’d been trapped.

Then nothing.

“Dig deeper,” Raphael said quietly, clearly attempting to be calm. His eyes were bright blue, though, telling a different story. “Don’t just look at the surface. Dig deeper towards what there was.”

Dean shut his eyes and tried to focus on what Gabriel had sent him. In between the panic had been something else, but moving away from the terror was harder than he thought.

_Focus, Michael._

Sam’s voice, Lucifer’s voice, came through, and with it the strength he knew was there. _I’m here. Let me help._

He surrendered to Lucifer and let his brother bolster him. He felt himself calm with Lucifer beside him. Always his pillar, always there to make him the better part of himself.

What would he do without his little brother?

It didn’t warrant thinking about, and he had another little brother to find. He breathed in and let himself slide into Michael. He could hear something else in the harmony still lingering through the force of Gabriel’s cry, and with it, he could catch snippets of Gabriel’s thoughts.

Black eyes. Trees. The flash of…an outfit from the 1970’s?

And suddenly he knew exactly where Gabriel had been. He didn’t even think, he just went, catching hold of Lucifer and Raphael and pulling them with him.

When they landed, everything was still and silent. The smell of sulfur hit him so heavily that he thought he’d gag for a moment. Demons. And a large swarm of them, too.

Still, it would’ve taken more than a group of demons to bring Gabriel to his knees. The archangel was stronger than ever now that he was tethered back to Heaven. No, there’d been something more than just your average gaggle of demons here.

“Where are we?” Lucifer asked.

“Scranton, Pennsylvania,” Michael told them. “This is where I found Gabriel right before we Fell.”

“I thought the outfit looked familiar,” Lucifer muttered. “What the hell was he thinking with that?”

Whatever it had been, it’d sent Michael enough clues to bring him here. There had to be something they could use to follow Gabriel. A piece of Grace, a feather, a clue, something, _anything_.

“We need backup,” Raphael said. “We can’t just wade in where one archangel has already been subdued.”

“He doesn’t have time for backup,” Lucifer snapped. “Didn’t you hear him? He’s terrified and _hurt_ , Raph.”

“Which is why we have to do this right. We need more of the Host. We don’t even know where he is!”

“All right, ease off, both of you,” Michael said. They both stopped but the rush of _dosomethingdosomething_ kept running through the air. He forced himself to take a breath before he turned back to them. “Listen to me,” he said quietly. “Gabriel needs us all. And as much as I hate to say it, Luce, Raphael’s right. We can’t rush in on this and depend on good old Winchester luck. We need to get this right the first time.”

Lucifer pursed his lips. “And wait for the entire Host to get together?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Raphael began to object, but Michael shook his head. “No, Lucifer’s got the right idea here. We get in and get out, fast. A small contingent. Get Cas and Sidria, any others that can be spared.”

“Ezekiel and Anael are ready and able,” Raphael said, and Michael nodded.

“Good. We’ll hit this hard but we’ll stay lean. Between the seven of us, we should be able to handle this.”

Raphael nodded and took off for Heaven. Lucifer sighed and it was all Sam when he looked up again. “Dean, what the hell happened?” he whispered. “All I can feel is the fear that Gabriel had when…whatever happened, happened. It was bad.”

“I know it was,” Dean said. He shook all of himself in order to try and purge the feeling that haunted him. He’d be no use to Gabriel if he couldn’t get it together. “We’ll find him. And then we’ll bleed whoever dared to touch him.”

That part Dean was looking forward to.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for torture, gore, violence.
> 
> This chapter and the next will get a little angsty.

They’d grabbed a hotel room in Scranton, just to stay close, and then tried to roam the area where they could feel the remnant of Grace. They found blood and a decent amount of it, but not enough to kill. Just enough to severely wound.

It just made Sam that much antsier. Somewhere, Gabriel was being hurt, _tortured_ , and they were sitting on their thumbs. But Dean was right: they had nowhere to go, just the clues left behind. He could be anywhere on Earth.

Or he could be in Hell. And that would take more angels than they had.

He stared at the screen in front of him. The hunt that he’d been researching after he’d woken seemed insignificant now. Compared to what was going on, there was nothing else that really mattered until they had Gabriel home.

He sighed and slammed the laptop lid shut. Maybe he should’ve gone with Dean to the bar, but he couldn’t handle a lot of noise right then and there. That was where Dean went to cool off and find some measure of peace. Sam preferred his laptop or a book.

He wished he could have gone with Raphael up to Heaven to interrogate Naomi – _that_ would have been fun. But Raphael had warned them both off and insisted that he’d take care of it and to lay low. It wasn’t something that Winchesters knew how to do particularly well.

Bobby had promised to put out his feelers as well. “Ellen and Jo aren’t far from you,” he’d told them. “At the very least, I can get hunters to keep track of the demons. That’ll leave the two of you to focus on finding Gabe.” It hadn’t been difficult to hear the anger and worry in his voice. He’d taken to Gabriel and Castiel, and he didn’t seem to mind Raphael, either. Which meant that Bobby had all but adopted the other angels the way he’d adopted Sam and Dean and he wouldn’t rest until Gabe had been found.

He should’ve taken Dean up on his offer. Sitting here by himself was no worse than dealing with a noisy bar, and then he wouldn’t have been alone with his thoughts. He resisted the urge to reach out with his Grace and feel for Michael. Dean was fine. He grabbed his phone and instead texted Jo again.

_You guys close?_

It didn’t take long for her to respond. _We’re pushing through as far as we can tonight. We’ll be to you by lunch tomorrow._

He wanted them there now, wanted to go fly them from wherever they were to Scranton, but there were numerous reasons why he shouldn’t do that. The first was because they were still waiting on angels, and there wasn’t much that two humans, no matter how good they were, could do. The second was that Ellen and Jo had no clue who Dean and Sam really were.

And after the hunters the other day, Sam wasn’t entirely certain about meeting with other hunters. Even if they were close friends like the Harvelles.

It was stupid to even think it. Ellen had stood by him whenever she’d found out about his visions. She’d never breathed a word. Jo hadn’t abandoned him after he’d attacked her while possessed: she’d helped him with a hunt while Dean had been in Hell. They were good people, good friends, as close to family as Sam and Dean really had outside of Bobby.

The feeling of the shotgun blast was enough of a reminder to tread carefully. Those hunters had been informed by a “reliable source” about Sam being the Devil. And if there was anything that bordered on unforgivable, it was bound to be releasing and housing the Devil.

No, he couldn’t sit and think like this. He pursed his lips and glanced around for his jacket. The bar wasn’t far, just a short walk. Screw it. He didn’t want to be alone anymore; he just wanted his big brother.

_Lucifer_.

Sam sat up straight in his chair. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t seriously have heard- “Gabriel?” he whispered. “Gabe?”

_Lucifer. Help me._

“Where are you?” Sam said. He had his jacket in hand a minute later and could feel his angel blade aching to be used. He still grabbed a gun to put at the small of his back, just because it felt wrong to not have it. “Gabriel, what happened?”

_Help me, Lucifer._

Sam shut his eyes. _Dean, can you track it?_

_Track what?_ came the startled reply.

_Gabriel! He’s calling to me!_

_What?!_

_You didn’t hear him?_ Sam asked.

_No! Hold on, I’m coming!_

Gabriel had called Lucifer, not Michael. He was probably too weak to put it across the entire angel radio. Sam darted outside, trying to pinpoint the direction.

Another message came through, tremulous and frightened. _Lucifer, please, help me. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on._

That decided him as he began to run. _I’m going to follow it, get us closer to Gabriel._

_Not without me you’re not,_ Dean sent angrily, and Sam could hear the panic in his voice. _Remember what we promised the other night? That we’d always go together? Sam you promised!_

_He’s getting weaker! We’ll lose him!_

_Sammy just wait! I can’t just fly out of the middle of the bar!_

_Lucifer,_ said Gabriel, barely audible.

Shit. He was going to lose Gabriel. “Hold on,” he murmured, following his instincts as he headed further into the small town. “Talk to me, Gabe. I’m coming, just hold on.”

_Dark. It’s, it’s all dark. Lucifer please._

The pull tugged him to the right, into an old store, but it didn’t feel like Gabriel. It didn’t feel right. “Gabriel?” Sam asked, inching forward, but hesitating for the first time.

“Lucifer?”

Oh god, that _was_ Gabriel, voice barely carrying through a broken window. What the hell had they done to his brother? “Hold on,” Sam said.

_Lucifer STOP! Wait for me!_

“I have him,” Sam said to try and assuage Dean’s panic. “Looks like it used to be a pharmacy, just a few blocks from the hotel. I’m gonna need your help.”

He hated to do it, but there was no one else around. He quickly flew inside and shook himself. “Gabe?” he called softly.

“Lucifer, help…”

Sam rounded an abandoned set of shelving units and gasped. There, against the old pharmacy counter, was Gabriel. He was covered in cuts and blood streamed freely, and he could barely lift his head. When he did, it was with tears in his eyes. “Lucifer,” he whimpered.

“I’m here,” Sam promised, hurrying forward. “Michael, I’ve got-“

He saw it too late. No wings. He couldn’t see Gabriel’s wings, and there was no gold flash in his eyes. Sam slid to a halt but the flames rose before he could stop himself. The circle of fire around him smelled revolting, and he tried to keep himself to the middle. It burned, even though it wasn’t touching him. Holy oil fire ring.

He was trapped. _Again._

Gabriel stood suddenly, and then he was someone else, an older gentleman with a large beard and dark eyes. The white suit was impeccable, but the man still wiped fake dust off his sleeves. “Well,” he said, a heavy southern drawl in his voice, “that was easier than I’d thought it would be, given who I was aimin’ to catch.”

There was a hint of something else in his voice, something Sam realized he recognized. “You,” he whispered.

The man smiled broadly. “Me,” he said. “It’s been a mite bit since we’ve had a chance to reconnect, Lucifer. Figured I’d have to catch your attention, and seems that the baby angel was a good way to do it. Granted, I didn’t figure I’d catch him so easily but when he showed up first instead of you, well, it was too good an opportunity to waste.”

Nothing was going to get through to Michael. Dean was going to _kill him_. Still, he had to try. He threw his wings out and tried to create enough wind to blow the flames out.

Something sharp lanced through one of his wings, and with a cry he fell to the ground. Blood and Grace leaked out from the wing where the blade had struck him.

“Now, now,” the man said, “I’d rather you not be wastin’ that Grace. I’ve so been lookin’ forward to it.”

_Michael, it’s As-_

“And that’ll be enough of that.”

The last thing he saw before the blow landed to his head was the cruel smile of Asmodeus. Then everything went black.

He was going to kill his little brother. Pour Nair into everything he owned. Put itching powder all over his seat in the Impala.

Because he’d lost all connection with Lucifer. Lucifer wasn’t there, buzzing in the back of his mind anymore. He was gone. Just like Gabriel.

Michael finally made it to the empty storefront and raced inside. “Lucifer!” he shouted.

There was nothing. His voice echoed off of the dusty shelves and empty space. Desperately he threw his True Voice out, enough to make the glass start to hum and rattle. “ ** _Lucifer!_ ”**

No answer. There was no feeling of Lucifer’s Grace, no connection, nothing.

It was the smell that caught his attention. He moved to the back of the store and felt his stomach twist. There was only one thing that smelled like that, and sure enough, there was a circle burned into the old carpet. Holy oil.

No. No, they couldn’t have taken both of his little brothers. They couldn’t have Gabe and Luce. They couldn’t, they just couldn’t have taken Sammy-

“ ** _Sam!_** ”

The glass on the storefront blew out, and every shelving unit flew to the walls. Michael stood and shook and shook, wings flared out.

“Michael? What’s happened?”

Michael didn’t even bother turning, just kept his eyes to the burn circle. There was blood in the middle, and Grace mixed in it. They’d hurt him and taken him.

And he was no closer to finding either of them.

There were more angels than just Raphael, judging by the sharp inhales. “Michael-“

“ ** _Back. Off._** ”

The little angel went scurrying backwards at the death threat hanging in Michael’s tone. They all did, except Raphael and another angel who actually approached him without hesitation. He felt the familiar Grace before he saw the trench coat.

Castiel.

Castiel grabbed him on either side of his face and met his gaze squarely. “This is not going to help Gabriel or Sam,” he said firmly. “We’ve got to move, and fast. This was demonic in nature, and it sounds like Gabriel’s abduction was much the same.”

“How does that-“

“Because there are very few places where you can hide one archangel,” Castiel said, overriding Anael’s question. “And only one place where you can possibly take two archangels and hope to keep them.”

Hell. They were in Hell.

“Now we need the entire Host,” Raphael said. His voice shook, though, and his eyes were locked on the blood stain. “This is no mere ragtag team of demons. They’re being led by someone with a great amount of power.”

“There’s no time,” Michael said roughly, forcing his voice to a lower level. Judging by the way the remaining glass shards in the window sang, he apparently wasn’t doing a great job of it. “They’ll know we’re looking and they’ll up their own timetable. We need to go in, now.”

Anael raised her hand. “And how do we expect to do _that_? It’s not easy to just waltz into Hell, they don’t hold the door open for us. It’ll take a large group to stage a frontal assault on one of the gates, and by then, they could take Gabriel and Lucifer elsewhere.”

“She’s right,” Castiel said grimly. “We need to find a back way in.”

He said it with such confidence that Michael found himself holding his breath and waiting. “Please tell me you have a plan,” Michael whispered. All he could think of was the last thing he’d heard Lucifer say. _“I’m here. Michael, I’ve got-“_

Then nothing. The loss of Lucifer felt like someone had cut his own wings off. He couldn’t help but desperately search his mind again, looking for any connection with his little brother. _Lucifer, talk to me, please._

Nothing.

“I have a plan,” Castiel said, and the fire in his eyes was encouraging. “I’ll need your help, Michael. You would be the easiest way to find who we need.”

Michael gave a sharp nod. He forced himself to become the general, the leader, because the only way he was going to find Lucifer and Gabriel was if he could keep it together.

His blade hummed, waiting. _Patience_ , he told it. _I’ll have something for you to carve up real soon._

_Luce, Gabe, I’m coming for you._

“Luce. Lucifer.”

Slowly he managed to get his eyes open. The lack of light helped, but only so much, and his eyes immediately adjusted to the darkness. The rest of him was having a harder time.

“Samshine!”

That helped wake him up the rest of the way. He managed to focus enough to see, and his stomach fell.

This was definitely Gabriel, not Asmodeus wearing a mask. Chained to the ground by the neck and limbs, Gabriel couldn’t even lift off the ground to get out of the crouch he’d been stuck in. Maybe kneel to take the weight off of his legs, but that was it. His wings were pinned to his back by the chains, unable to open, and Sam winced at the sight.

“Are you all right?” he croaked.

Gabriel pursed his lips and actually looked pissed off and irritated at _him_. “Not great. And as wonderful as it is to see you, I sort of didn’t want it like this. How’s the wing?”

Blood caked on his face and across several of his wings, looking nine types of exhausted and pained, and he was still asking about Sam. Sam took a minute to take stock on his own predicament.

It wasn’t pretty. He was chained against the wall, hands above his head, legs bound in the same manner above the floor. There was a little give, enough to rattle the chains, but that was it.

His wings, however, were spread out and clipped with tinier chains. He tried to move them and got absolutely nowhere. It reminded him sharply of the dissection his science teacher had shown them in eighth grade, a dead bird with its wings pinned out to the side for easy access. His stomach lurched.

One of his wings was still bleeding, blood streaking down the remainder of his feathers. It hurt, but not bad enough that he couldn’t use it if he had to. “Usable,” he said. “We just need to get out of here.”

“That’s Enochian in the chains,” Gabriel said bitterly. “Asmodeus was ready for angels.”

Asmodeus. That was a name that Lucifer hadn’t considered for a long time. Prince of Hell after…

He shut his eyes tight. “What’s wrong?” Gabriel demanded. “Hey, don’t leave me alone here, bro.”

“This is my fault,” he whispered. Gabriel didn’t seem to understand, and how could he? He didn’t know everything that Lucifer had done under the Mark. He’d done this. And the memory, though faint, still hurt in its truth. “Gabe, I’m so sorry.”

“You should be.”

Lucifer whipped his head over to Asmodeus as the demon strolled into the room. It looked like any other room in Hell: dark, blood-stained walls, heat so searing it felt like an icy burn. Lucifer fought off a shiver and instead glared at the demon. Gabriel had sunk down to the floor, and it made Lucifer’s rage that much greater. “If you’d just done as you promised, we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” Asmodeus said. He twirled a small, sharp blade in his right hand. “You were capable of so much. We were goin’ to rule together. You promised me, Lucifer.”

“No, I told you that you could have a place at my side because you showed promise,” Lucifer said bitterly. He could feel Gabriel’s gaze on him and forced himself to keep his focus on Asmodeus. The demon looked so out of place in the white suit. It was exactly like Asmodeus, though. He needed to look better than the others because he’d always come in on the bottom.

Asmodeus turned towards Gabriel, making Gabriel flinch, and that was enough of that. “Not as much promise as some of the others,” Lucifer said casually, and just like that, Asmodeus was up in his face.

“Caught you, didn’t I?”

Lucifer shrugged as best as he could. “You got lucky. Everyone does eventually. Congratulations on pure dumb luck.”

“Luce-“

In a flash searing pain shot across his wing, and Lucifer gasped as several feathers fell to the floor. Blood flowed nauseatingly down his wing, and with it, a small trickle of Grace. “Speak again, little angel, and I’ll take it out of your brother,” Asmodeus promised darkly. “I promised to lace your lips together, but I’m thinkin’ this might be more effective. There’s more than one way to cause pain. After all, isn’t that what you taught me, Lucifer?”

The demon reached out and Lucifer forced himself to not flinch, but Asmodeus went instead for the wound. He swiped his finger through the blood and Grace and brought his fingers to his lips and licked them. His eyes lit up briefly with Grace, and the smile he gave was frightening.

“Now _that_ is delicious. As tasty as the blood is, however, it’s really the other stuff that I’m lookin’ for. I’m sure we can come to some sort of…arrangement. I mean, if you don’t want to give up your Grace, I understand. And I’ve some respect for you still, for without you, I wouldn’t be standin’ here. So I’ll give you the choice, Lucifer.”

He glanced back at Gabriel, now kneeling and huddled in a small ball, then turned back to Lucifer. “Your Grace or his,” Asmodeus offered. “Which one do I get to feast on?”

There was no choice. “Mine,” he said, and Gabriel let out a choked sound. “Take mine.”

Asmodeus’s eyes flared bright. “My pleasure,” he purred, and his blade rose again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang tight. I'll make it better. Trust me, Michael's on his way.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait! I also miscounted - there's one more chapter beyond this one that deals with torture/gore (though you get a bit of reprieve in this chapter) and then we'll get to the angsty aftermath. Thanks for bearing with me!

Of all the individuals Castiel could have possibly considered to be helpful, he…was not what Dean would’ve thought of. “You have got to be kidding me,” Dean said.

“No one would know it better than him,” Castiel said. “Besides, he likes it when we owe him. Remember what happened with the Horsemen?”

The tinny sound of Bobby’s voice still conveyed his incredulity, even through the phone. “ _I’m sorry, are you seriously talkin’ about summoning Crowley?_ ”

“He knows the back doors into Hell,” Castiel insisted. “We did something similar when we needed to get into Hell to rescue you. A larger contingent fought against the main gates while I led a smaller group through a side door with a demon’s help.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “A demon helped?”

“In exchange for his humanity returned to him,” Raphael said with a slow nod. “Yes, I remember that. It wasn’t beyond my ability to heal him and release him from Hell. For your release, we would’ve done anything.”

A knock at the hotel room door made them all tense, but a moment later his Grace recognized the two familiar souls outside. And wow, he could see their _souls_. Ellen’s had a few scars on it from her husband’s loss, but both her soul and Jo’s were bright and beautiful. It made him honored, to know them and call them part of his family.

He hurried over and opened the door. Neither of the women looked happy. “We raced as fast as we could,” Ellen told him. “Broke at least three speed limits that I know of-“

“And lost one cop,” Jo said a little smugly, but it was lined with worry and anger. “We had better things to do, like try to find Sam.” Then she stepped inside and blinked.

Dean didn’t blame her. Castiel looked intimidating with his face full of fury and all but radiating power, and he didn’t even hold a candle to Raphael, his vessel tall and powerful with her chosen heels and business suit. She was dressed to impress, and Raphael’s Grace shone bright blue through her eyes.

Both Ellen and Jo paused for a minute. “Um,” Jo said, and that was about all she could come up with.

Thankfully, Bobby chose that minute to intervene. “ _You both made damn good time._ ”

“Bobby, you find anything?” Ellen asked the phone on the table. She gave Dean a sideways glance as she did so, however, and her gaze was too knowing. His blood pressure rose significantly, because as much as he loved the two women, well. He remembered the four hunters he’d put down.

“ _Apparently there’s been omens, crop circles, power issues, stuff that should’ve pinged on a nearby hunter’s radar. I thought Walt and Roy were in the area but I can’t find ‘em._ ”

Well, guess he was going to burst that bubble. “That’s because they were too busy on the west side of Michigan putting shotgun shells in my little brother,” Dean growled, and he could feel his Grace flare with rage. “Along with Tim and Reggie. So no, they had other things to do.”

Ellen and Jo whipped around, eyes wide, but Castiel and Raphael were just as shocked. “ _That’s_ what the surge of Grace came from?” Raphael gasped. “You said everything was fine!”

“They shot Sam?” Castiel said, equally as stunned. “How-“

“Holy oil circle,” Dean told him, and Castiel’s wings flared out in hot anger. Raphael’s six wings coiled as if ready to attack, fists clenched. Dean knew the feeling.

_Michael, tell me you dealt with them,_ Raphael prayed, and Dean gave a short nod. His brother’s wings settled, but only just, and Castiel looked far more pleased than he probably ought to at the thought of a human’s demise.

Tough shit. They’d shot Sam, _killed_ Sam, and if it hadn’t been for his Grace, Dean wouldn’t have his little brother anymore.

“You said he was taken, not that he was _dead_ ,” Ellen began, still shocked, but Dean waved her off.

“That’s because he’s not dead. And the assholes who took him are definitely demons.”

“How the hell do you survive a shotgun blast?” Jo asked incredulously, but Ellen went still, impossibly so. Her gaze drifted over the others in the room, then back to Dean. So she knew. Dean tensed, hoping and praying that she wouldn’t do what he thought she would.

“ _I got bodies to take care of?_ ” Bobby asked angrily, always dependable.

“Not anymore,” Dean confessed.

Ellen crossed her arms and leaned against the table, cool and calm. “You didn’t introduce us,” she said. “I’m guessin’ the others here all have feathers.”

Dean nodded towards each of the others but didn’t take his eyes off of Ellen. “The one in the trench coat is Castiel, and the woman is Raphael. Like you figured.” _Please, Ellen, don’t make me do this._

“And who are _you_?” Jo asked. She was looking just as collected as her mother, but her hand was resting lazily on her hip, ready to grab her gun if she had to. More experienced than she used to be, but she still telegraphed too easily.

Dean raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m Dean. Same as I’ve ever been. Just found the part of me that I was missing, that’s all.”

“Michael,” Ellen said flatly. Jo inhaled sharply but said nothing.

The rest of the room was completely silent, waiting for Dean. Even Bobby had fallen silent, but Dean could sense that he was waiting to interject on behalf of Dean and the others if need be. At least one hunter would stand with them.

Dean took a deep breath in. “Yeah. That’d be the part I was missing.”

Jo frowned and dared to follow him up. “Missing? You’re…not possessed?”

“He _is_ Michael,” Raphael said, almost gently. Jo jumped as if she’d forgotten the others were there. Ellen said nothing, just kept watching them all, face blank. “He was reborn into Dean Winchester. Make no mistake, though: he’s just as much Dean as he is Michael. If not more so some days,” he added wryly.

“I resent that,” Dean muttered.

“You _resemble_ that,” Castiel added helpfully.

When Sam didn’t interject, and Gabriel didn’t add a sly comment, it was suddenly brought home again that his little brothers were gone, they were _gone_ , and there was only one place they could be. “I need to know if you’re in or out,” Dean said, his Grace feeling the anger rise again. Even Ellen startled back a step into the table, and Dean figured his eyes were giving him away. Whatever. He had bigger fish to fry. “Because if you’re not then just go. I’ve got two little brothers to find and every minute we spend on this bullshit is another minute I can’t get to them.”

“You’ve had a little more time to process this than we have,” Ellen said, glaring at him. “I’m tryin’ to choke it down as fast as I can, all right? And we’re not going anywhere until we get Sam back. Sam…or Lucifer,” she added haltingly, and Dean pursed his lips tighter. “That’s the other half of the coin, isn’t it? You’re Michael, and he’s Lucifer, reincarnated.”

“More like Fallen,” Raphael said. “They both Fell, and becoming human was the result.”

Ellen glanced at Raphael, then Castiel, then finally back at Dean. “You’re still you?” she asked quietly. “Sam still Sam?”

Dean gave a firm nod. “That won’t ever change. No matter whether we’ve got wings and Grace now.”

After a moment, Ellen gave an answering nod, and the corner of her lips turned up. “All right then,” she said, and just like that, she was settled. Dean felt his shoulders slump from tension he hadn’t known he’d been storing up.

“So that phone call was crap,” Jo said. “Just like we figured.”

Wait. “ _Phone call?_ ” Bobby asked, speaking up at last. “ _What phone call?_ ”

“You didn’t get one?” Ellen asked, but she didn’t sound surprised. “Some random guy swearing he was trying to keep us safe and wanted to share information. Said that Sam had cut Lucifer loose from his prison and that the Devil was possessing him, and he needed to be put down before he could bring about the end of the world.”

‘Reliable source’ was apparently some random guy on a phone? “He leave a name?’ Dean asked.

Ellen shook her head. “Wasn’t anybody I recognized, either.”

Jo actually grinned for a half moment. “You should’ve seen Mom when we got the call. She was pissed.”

“Damn straight I was,” Ellen said, all but growling. “I’ve heard about enough of people tellin’ me that Sam’s something evil. Outside of my baby girl and you, I don’t know anybody nicer and kinder than your brother.”

The relief that Ellen and Jo were on their side, willing to support them no matter what happened, was almost more than he could handle at the moment. “Thank you,” he managed to get out all the same.

_Michael, I can see why you like them,_ Raphael said, and there was definitely a feeling of approval coming from Castiel. Dean had no doubts that Cas would find a fast friend in Ellen and Jo. It’d give Ellen two more to mother as well, which Jo would probably appreciate.

“Tell us what we can do,” Ellen said in that no-nonsense tone of hers.

“I need ingredients,” Castiel said. “Normally, I wouldn’t, I would just drag him here by angelic summons, but the less Grace we send up right now as a beacon, the better. Whoever took Sam and Gabriel took two archangels. That’s an incredible amount of power.”

“Plus we’d like the asshole to be agreeable whenever he shows up,” Dean said. “We need him and in a good mood, so no demon’s traps.”

Jo blinked. “Wait, we’re summoning a demon?”

“The King of the Crossroads, actually.”

Ellen narrowed her gaze. “I thought demons took Sam and this…Gabriel you mentioned.” She paused for half a moment. “Gabriel the _Messenger_ ,” she said, looking as if her mind was spinning. “Right. That makes a lot more sense than some random guy you know.”

Well, they were in it for the long haul. Time to catch them up to speed. “Crowley helped us against the Four Horsemen almost a month ago. He’s our best chance of getting into Hell through a side door without alerting everyone else. And we’ll owe him another favor.” One that he was pretty sure he knew how Crowley would want to cash in.

That was for a different time, though, way after he had Sam and Gabe back and safe.

“Who’s to say that this Crowley didn’t take them?” Jo asked. Castiel’s eyes flared in anger and no small amount of possible satisfaction at getting to take Crowley out.

Dean had to admit, it was a possibility. “Not sure it’s his style, but I’m not ruling it out. Crowley knows I already owe him. Whether he did it or not, I need to find him and fast.”

“Tell us what you need and we’ll get it,” Jo said. No hesitation, just as strong as her mom, stalwart and sure.

Dean took a breath and let it out a little shakily as Castiel and Bobby shared the ingredients they needed. They’d get in, they’d find Sam and Gabriel, they’d get out.

_We’ll find them, Michael,_ Raphael prayed, and Dean nodded.

They had to. There was no other option.

The town had a small, old manufacturing center, with one of the buildings looking like it needed to be taken down. Something Sam would’ve cheekily called a “burner-downer” instead of a “fixer-upper” and the thought of his little brother just made something in Dean’s chest _ache_.

He and Castiel stood in the building on their own. Despite Jo, Ellen, and Bobby all demanding to be involved in this part with Crowley, Dean had put his foot down. They were both angels. They weren’t targets that a demon could mess with just to make a point. The less Dean needed to worry about right now, the better it would be for everyone. Because honestly, his Grace was on a hair trigger at this point.

It was why he was focusing on being Dean. If he let Michael out, he was half-afraid he’d incinerate the entire damn town. He needed to approach this like any other hunt.

Okay, fat fucking chance of that, with both of his little brothers taken, and the days slipping away. He knew what time was like in Hell. He had no clue how long they’d been down there, but three days up top was more than enough time all on its own.

Raphael had agreed to wait so as to not pressure Crowley with two archangels and a captain, but he hadn’t been happy about it. Still, he’d understood, which Dean appreciated. Though Raphael had also insisted that there was going to be a _talk_ later regarding little brothers being shot by hunters and other brothers not filling him in about it. Which Dean could also appreciate, even though it made him wince with guilt.

His phone pinged in his pocket, and he pulled it out briefly, then shoved it roughly back into his jeans. “Jo?” Castiel asked.

Dean gave a terse nod. “They’ve cleared the state line and should be in South Dakota sometime late tomorrow.” Safer for them to head out and join up with Bobby. Raphael knew to keep an eye on the Singer home. Plenty of wards to protect them but whoever had taken Sam and Gabriel had taken down two archangels. He wasn’t taking chances.

Part of his brain acknowledged that Sam hadn’t been thinking like he usually did; he’d been panicked and terrified for Gabriel, and it had clouded his judgment. And a sloppy hunter was a hunter who wound up dead. Or worse.

He’d chew Sam out later. Once he had him back.

Castiel pulled a match out and lit it without any preamble, eyes flaring briefly with Grace as he did so. He dropped it into the stone bowl on the floor, and Dean watched as it lit into a blue flame. So they’d gotten all the ingredients right, then. It was an older spell that Bobby had found, one that Raphael had agreed would be enough to summon and bind a more powerful demon. With a few… _additional_ ingredients, it would be enough to bind just about anything except for the ruler of Hell, whoever that was these days, according to his brother.

It rankled the Michael part of him that he’d ignored the politics enough that he had no clue who was in power. It was something he would hopefully remedy in a few moments.

The flame suddenly grew higher, nearly to his waist, then disappeared completely. Dean felt the surge of power in the same instance as something dark and oily slid into the room, taking only a minute to form as the demon Dean remembered. Crowley materialized almost too fast to have taken a host with him – interesting. The demon was dressed impeccably in his black suit with an equally black shirt and tie.

He also didn’t look surprised. “Thanks for the social call,” he said, British accent conveying all of his annoyance. “It saved me time from trying to track you down.”

Dean immediately felt his Grace flare with the sudden knowledge that Crowley had been looking for him. There was only one reason. “You have exactly three seconds to explain what you want.”

“Touchy, touchy.” Still, as casual as the demon tried to sound, Dean could see that he was leaning back a little from both angels. It gave Dean more satisfaction than he’d thought it would. _Vindictive – I like it,_ Gabriel would’ve said, and the ache in his chest changed to a smoldering fire. “And I have valid reasons to find you.”

“Not helping you become less of a pile of ashes,” Castiel told him. Dean clearly wasn’t the only one feeling the urge to smite. _Cas, we need him,_ he shot to the other angel, and Castiel pursed his lips but settled down.

Crowley looked between the two of them but thankfully decided not to make an issue of it. “Remember when you owed me?” he said. “And recall that it was before you were all archangel. Congratulations, by the way. Sorry I didn’t send a gift basket.”

“Speak quickly, Crowley,” Castiel snapped. “Because listening to you is starting to grate on my nerves. A lot.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Still so much spark in this one. I do love someone with some bite to them.”

“Crowley, if you’re looking to cash in on a favor, you picked the absolute worst time,” Dean said with a snarl. “I’ve got way more pressing things-“

“Like two missing archangels?”

Dean stopped. Crowley just raised an eyebrow. “Well?” he asked.

His anger came back first, followed closely by his blade in his hand. “If you took them,” he began, but Crowley shook his head.

“No, please, I’m nowhere near that stupid. As if I’d take Loki and the moose. No, I’m talking about someone else. Someone that I want removed as much as you want to find him.”

The amount of effort it took to not smite Crowley on the spot was incredible. As it was, the fact that Crowley knew what had happened to his brothers was helping keep his hand steady. “Talk,” Dean demanded.

Crowley crossed his arms and looked irritated. “He took over Hell, since Lucifer wasn’t stepping up to the job. He was obvious about it, too, and had some sort of power source I didn’t understand at the time. He also made a lot of noise about talking to Lucifer. Getting the original plan back on track. What plan, I didn’t know, not until I was informed that two archangels were being held in his quarters.”

“ ** _Who_** ,” Dean said, letting his True Voice reverberate, and he watched Crowley flinch.

“Asmodeus. Prince of Hell, now King of Hell. I want him off the throne. You want your brothers back. I can get you in the back door of Hell, but this is my quid pro quo, Michael. You have to kill Asmodeus for me. Take care of him and we’re even.”

“So you can take the throne,” Castiel said angrily. “That’s what you really want.”

Crowley just shrugged. So Dean had been right. “Trust me, Michael. I’d be a much better king than Asmodeus or Ramiel or any of the other Princes. I’d offer it to Ramiel or even Dagon but they’ve both made themselves scarce as of late. I’d even graciously set up the transference line again if you felt so inclined.”

That made Dean stop. Michael well remembered the transference lines, a truce between Hell and Heaven for sorting out souls that went to the wrong place. Some souls that went to Hell did so for righteous reasons. And some went to Heaven that had done foul deeds in some holy name. Having those set up again meant that demons could come to a part of Heaven to hand off souls, and angels into Hell.

Still, helping a demon get what he wanted wasn’t high on Dean’s list of things to do. But they weren’t going to get into Hell without his help, and Dean knew it. Castiel did too, but wasn’t giving Crowley any hint of weakness. It sent a surge of pride through him, to have this angel as a friend.

“You get me into Hell, I’ll deal with Asmodeus,” Dean agreed. “And we’ll talk about you assuming the throne; primarily, what that’ll mean for crossroad deals and demons wandering around the earth. Got it?”

Crowley gave a nod. “Far more agreeable than you used to be. Being human was good for you, Michael. Now, for the back door-“

“We’re going now,” Dean said. Crowley blinked.

“I need to get in first-“

“Then you get in first. But we’re going, and we’re going now. Cas?”

“On their way,” Castiel said. “Sidria and Ezekiel are ready. Raphael will wait with Anael and the others.”

That would do. He needed to get in and get in _now_. They’d been missing three days too many as it was.

And the fact that it was Asmodeus that had them…

It was more than Dean could handle, more than Michael wanted to think about. Later, when Lucifer and Gabriel were safe. They’d be fine. They had to be.

“Right then,” Crowley said. “If you’ve got your winged darlings ready to follow, let’s go.” He nodded to the bowl on the floor and Dean tipped it over with an angry brush of his wings. Crowley’s eyes flared a deep red as he was unbound and he snapped his fingers.

In an instant they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the rescue commences!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited rescue.

The room was almost the worst part about all of this. Not because Lucifer was much of an interior designer, that was apparently his older brother’s job ( _Michael Dean Michael Dean please please please_ ) but because of the sound. Or, really, the lack thereof. There wasn’t even a dripping pipe to drive him crazy, or the hum of demons to focus on. No, there was just nothing until Asmodeus would clang inside and start tearing his Grace from him.

He didn’t know how much he had left at this point. He could feel his human soul desperately clinging to his Grace, holding it upright much as his Grace had protected him from the shotgun blast. Working together, keeping all of him safe.

Unfortunately, it couldn’t do anything about his little brother.

Gabriel knelt now, slumped over on the floor, chains sagging with how little he was fighting them. He had a bruise on his face and blood still staining his wings. All of that could be fixed, in time. But it was the dullness in his eyes, the lack of a spark, that made Lucifer’s chest ache even more than what Asmodeus had recently done. He’d taken to rooting his hand around in Lucifer’s chest cavity to get to his Grace. He’d tried from Lucifer’s leg at one point but when Lucifer had just passed out, he’d decided to just stick with the chest. Or the neck. Or wherever he could get his grimy hands.

Yet Lucifer would’ve taken all the pain in the world if it meant Gabe would just _talk_. Not…not stare like some sort of empty shell. He’d stayed with Lucifer for as long as he could, but Asmodeus’s taunting and lashing out at Lucifer had eventually quelled Gabriel into mute silence. There was no bright spirit left in his Grace, nothing but a dim flicker that was barely lit. It was terrifying and hurt far more than anything Asmodeus could do.

Never mind what Asmodeus wanted-

No. He couldn’t think about that. Not now.

“Gabriel,” Lucifer whispered. Gabriel blinked at him but didn’t say anything, just watched him fearfully. Lucifer flinched and tried again. “Gabe. Little one.”

He’d wanted to offer comfort while Asmodeus was there, but he hadn’t dared speak any sort of affectionate nickname that the demon could take and utilize. Now, though, they were alone. And he’d do the best he could for Gabriel in the meanwhile, and that started with getting Gabriel to talk.

“Gabe, c’mon,” he begged. “Talk to me. I’m losing my mind here.”

Gabriel remained silent, but his eyes shimmered. They seemed to dart over every part of Lucifer and Lucifer’s fingers twitched with the urge to comfort. His wings tried, too, and Lucifer gasped in pain when they shifted the knives. Gabriel flinched.

_Michael, please,_ he called again, but it only bounced back at him. Gabriel heard it and only hunched in further on himself. “Gabriel,” he said, and let the Sam part of him take over. For some reason, it hurt less when he didn’t focus on his archangel self. “Little one,” he said again. “Don’t let him win. Don’t let him do this.”

Not even a sound through their Grace. “Tell me you’re okay,” Sam begged, tears filling his eyes. Gabriel bit his lip hard enough that Sam could see blood but said nothing. “Gabriel, _please_.”

Finally, _finally_ , Gabriel parted his lips to speak. “I-“

In an instant pain shot across Sam’s chest. He couldn’t hold back the scream as something tore through him, deep down, like fire through his very being. Blood flowed over his skin in a nauseating manner, and he choked back another scream as best he could. He blinked and blinked again, tears rolling down his face, and when he could see again, Asmodeus stood in front of him.

The demon tutted and shook his head. “I did warn you,” he said. He dragged his finger over Sam’s chest in a mockery of a caress, then suddenly plunged his hand deep inside, dragging another scream out of Sam. He hit something deep inside, something _wrong,_ and Sam couldn’t hold back the shudder. He yanked his hand out and Sam panted, watching blearily as Asmodeus licked blood and Grace from his fingers.

After a moment, Asmodeus turned to Gabriel. Gabriel was as white as a sheet, eyes red and brimming with tears that silently flowed down his face. “Gabe, no,” Sam whispered. Gabriel shut his eyes and shuddered. “Little one-“

“The next time I come through, I won’t be so nice,” Asmodeus said to Gabriel. “I won’t warn you again. Keep that mouth of yours shut.”

He headed for the door, then paused. Sam tried to get his breathing back under control as his insides ached. His wings finally registered, having been pulled and ripped as he’d fought Asmodeus’s attack. His Grace cried out for Michael.

Asmodeus turned back with a grin. “Y’know, I am feelin’ mighty peckish. As long as I’m down here…”

In a flash he was in front of Sam and digging his hand back in, and Sam screamed and writhed as he pulled more Grace out. _Michael,_ he begged, _Michael, Dean, please, please, pleasepleaseplease_ -

Through it all Gabriel listened and watched, mouth pinched shut to keep his sobs in.

Michael remembered Hell. He’d been in it numerous times as an archangel, especially when he’d visited Lucifer. Then he’d spent 40 years in Hell as a human soul. He’d seen the worst Hell had to offer.

This…didn’t look like Hell. At all.

The walls were dark and probably closer to blood than dirt in color, but there was no blood _on_ them. There were also no screams resounding, no cries or pleas for mercy. Just a dark corridor with some electric lights set into the walls. Several pipes ran the length of the ceiling. It looked honestly like some of the abandoned homes he’d hunted in.

Crowley kept walking like this wasn’t anything new to him. He did make a distasteful noise of derision at the lights when they flickered, but otherwise he just kept moving, down one hallway, then another.

The main door itself had been an inconspicuous sewer access door in the middle of nowhere in Tennessee. Raphael and Anael had stepped back and let them enter. “We’ll be waiting above,” Raphael had told him. “Call if you need help.”

Right now, Michael hoped he wouldn’t need to make that call. That he’d just get Lucifer and Gabriel and get back out. He started reaching out with his Grace to try and find them, only for Crowley to smack him in the arm. “Want to burn?” Michael growled.

Crowley scowled back. “Did you want to alert every demon that you’re here? I’m having a hard enough time masking the four of you and your Graces. Simmer down, Squirrel.”

The instinct to burn the demon out of the guy next to him was so tempting his hand reached for Crowley’s skull. However, the saner part of him said that Crowley was his best chance to find his brothers. His _only_ chance.

“Where are we?” Sidria whispered. Her eyes darted everywhere and she was clearly tracking exits and possible entrances. Ezekiel kept pace with her, eyes facing forward, keeping his guard up. Always alert, the both of them, and it was far more than Michael could be at the moment. All he wanted was to find Gabriel and Lucifer and chew on Asmodeus.

Even Castiel didn’t look as clear-headed as Sidria and Ezekiel. He looked on edge and vaguely angry about it, hand moving from fist to twitchy fingers and then back again. “These are the offices of the higher-tiered demons,” Castiel whispered back. “What you’d call the upper echelon.”

“The throne,” Michael summed up.

Crowley nodded tersely. “And those loyal to it. It tends to reflect the being ruling the roost. Thus the very wretched lighting and darker colors, no natural light, nothing. Asmodeus has little imagination and doesn’t particularly care about the finer things in life unless he’s wearing them. His interests lie elsewhere.”

Like in two archangels. “We’re here,” Crowley said, stopping in front of a large door. “I’ve no idea where Asmodeus is. I’ll see if I can find him and keep him occupied. But you remember our deal-“

“I’ll take care of him,” Michael swore. His eyes flashed bright green with his Grace as it flared, and Crowley actually took a step backwards.

That would serve him right. Squirrel indeed.

He glanced back at Castiel, then Ezekiel and Sidria, all of them standing at attention. They nodded firmly.

The door suddenly opened and Michael swung his blade out. A demon wearing a young woman with dark hair peered out and didn’t seem at all surprised to see them. “Dean Winchester,” she drawled, then raised an eyebrow. “Or should I say Michael. There’s one I didn’t see coming.”

The tone and the visage of the demon that he could now see made him suddenly realize he knew exactly who the demon was. “Meg?” he asked, surprised.

Her eyes turned black and she turned to Crowley. “He’s down visiting the lower levels. Your best chance is now.”

Wait. Was she actually…? “You’re helping me,” he said flatly.

Meg glared at him. “I’m helping myself, obviously. Asmodeus is dangerous. I don’t want him on the throne. I wanted your brother on the throne, but that’s unlikely to happen.”

“Try not at all,” Castiel snapped. Meg glanced at him and her black eyes disappeared. She actually smiled and winked at him, only making Castiel glare harder.

Any other time and Michael might’ve found the entire thing hilarious. Now, however, there was a single demon standing between him and his brothers and he was ready to smite something. “Meg, you have exactly three seconds to move. _Now_.”

Meg’s grin disappeared. “I’m trying to _help you_ , you massive douchebag. I actually like Sam, you know, when I don’t actively hate him. It’s sort of impossible to hate somebody when you spend time in their skull.”

Her eyes flashed black again, but this time with something that Michael thought looked like fear. “And…I don’t like Asmodeus, all right?”

There was more there that she wasn’t saying. In an instant Michael read through her emotions and found fear but also anger and even guilt. Something cold and slimy cut through his being and Michael froze. “You know where Sam is,” he breathed. Then his heart stopped in his chest, Grace wailing in anguish when she turned away, looking sick. “You’ve _seen_ him.”

Meg wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I said I was here to help,” she said sullenly, but her darkness betrayed her, emotions bouncing everywhere. “You’re gonna take care of Asmodeus, right?”

His Grace couldn’t take anymore, and Michael was going to give them away. He shoved it down as far as he could and then let Dean take over. Dean who could be cold and calculated and dangerous, even with Sam’s life on the line. “Yeah,” Dean said. “Now take me to my brothers.”

“I’ve my own things to set up in the throne room,” Crowley said. “Hurry. Not sure I can hold him off if he comes back.”

Meg didn’t hesitate, just disappeared inside the door, and Dean hurried after her, Castiel and the other two on his tail. The rooms were darker, uglier, crowded with wire shelving and horrific looking things in jars. Old books were stacked haphazardly, and he could feel the thrum of magic everywhere. There were jars of foul looking substances, plants, all of it making his skin buzz. He rolled his shoulders back and tried not to breathe.

“Yeah,” Meg whispered. “What can I say. He loves a good high. And now he’s found the best high of them all.”

Dean frowned until he realized what she was getting at. “You mean…”

“None of you want to stay down here when he gets back,” she said seriously. “Trust me, Dean-o. The sooner I get you out, the better everyone will be. Just, uh. Just don’t kill me on your way up, all right?”

If she got him to Sam and Gabe, then she could do whatever she wanted. “Just go,” he ordered.

Through another room with even more things, then the hallway split into two directions – one to an open door that looked like living quarters, and then stairs down to a door with no lights anywhere near it. If Meg hadn’t moved down the steps, Dean wasn’t even sure he’d have seen them. She quickly dug a knife out and then, to Dean’s surprise, dug it into her palm. Blood gushed up and with it part of her inky demon self. She wiped it onto the doorknob and the door quietly clicked open.

“You need me…you know what, actually, don’t come looking for me,” Meg told him. “I don’t want to get involved with angels on top of Asmodeus. Though,” and she gave a wink in Castiel’s direction, all smiles, “I’d absolutely make an exception for you, cutie-pie.”

“Leave before I smite you,” Castiel growled.

Meg’s grin only grew. “You like it rough. Funny, so do I.” In a flash she was gone, melting away to another part of Hell.

Dean was too busy pushing the door open to follow just where she was going. He could feel wards itching at his skin and he flung a hand out, smashing one without thought to how much Grace he was sending out. At this point, he was ready for a fight with Asmodeus. With any demon.

The dark room offered no light, but there was light beckoning up ahead and to the right, around a short wall. Dean moved forward, blade at the ready, just in case there _was_ a fight ahead.

He saw Gabriel first, chained to the floor, wings all but wrenched behind him and tied against him. Gabriel glanced back at the sound when they came in, eyes widening at the sight of him, and his face was tearstained and bruised. “Gabe,” Dean whispered, even as his Grace leapt at the sight of his little brother. Gabriel’s Grace…didn’t do the same. It was there, but dimmed, so dimmed, and Dean frowned, even as he hurried forward. “Gabriel, what-“

Gabriel shook his head rapidly, mussed hair going everywhere, and he jerked his head towards the far wall. Dean followed his gaze and felt his heart stop. Even his Grace froze, unable to understand or comprehend what it was seeing.

Sam hung from the wall like a bad dissection experiment, wings nailed to the wall with knives. His shirts were completely shredded and his torso was so red it took a minute for Dean to grasp that it was his brother’s chest he was seeing. He could see a few ribs amongst the slashes, the skin barely there. One leg had a massive bloody hole in it, the other mostly untouched, and his feet were bare and bruised. His arms hung above his head, wrists swollen and discolored, and his face was covered in blood.

Sam didn’t move, and for a heart-stopping moment, Dean knew he was too late, that Sam was dead, that Sam couldn’t survive this much torture-

A small cough rattled through Sam’s chest. It was enough to startle him into motion. “Luce,” Dean croaked. “Luce, Sammy, Sam, Sammy _SamLuce_ -“

His tongue kept tripping but it wasn’t making sense anymore. His legs felt numb and useless but he managed to make them work anyway as he stumbled towards his little brother. Or what was left of his little brother. There was so much blood, all of it outside and not enough inside. His wings were missing feathers, too, pulled and bloodied and mangled.

No Grace, either. He froze for a moment, trying to feel Lucifer in that space in his head where he usually was, but he was gone, he was _gone_ -

No, wait. There. A tiny flicker of light that was dimmed but still there. He had some Grace left still. He wasn’t gone yet.

He wouldn’t be gone at all. He wasn’t losing his little brother. Either of them.

He glanced back at Gabriel where Ezekiel and Sidria had him free and held upright. Castiel had his blade out, eyes bright with fury. “Is he still alive?” he asked, as if the words pained him, and Gabriel actually _shook_.

“He’s alive,” Dean said. The Michael part of him was beyond words, nothing but Grace that couldn’t settle. He shoved his archangel side back because all Michael wanted to do was scream and tear Hell apart. The hunter part of him could focus. Had to focus.

He gently pulled the knives out of the wings, more terrified than he had been in a long time when Lucifer didn’t so much as respond. “Lucifer,” he called. “Luce, Sammy, c’mon, wake up.”

Nothing. He pulled out the last knife, shoved straight through the middle of a wing, and this time he earned a soft moan as Lucifer began to fall. He caught him as best he could but he still got a choked-off scream for his efforts.

“Easy, easy,” Dean murmured. Something dripped onto Lucifer’s face, and Dean hastily wiped at his own face to keep his tears at bay. “Easy, Luce. I got you. C’mon, come back, wake up for me little brother.”

The face beneath his was still too pale, too blank, and Dean swallowed hard. “Sammy, I need you,” he whispered. “ _Please_.”

Whether it was the name or the words or the tone, Dean didn’t know, but slowly two hazel eyes met his. Barely any sort of Grace in them, but Sam’s soul was still there. “Sammy?” he asked, voice shaking.

Sam swallowed but managed to focus on Dean. “M’here,” he breathed. “D’n…”

Relief flooded him so strongly he almost collapsed under it. “Next time,” and Dean nearly choked on the words, “next time, _wait for me.”_

Unbelievably, Sam huffed a laugh, eyes flickering with the remnants of his Grace, and Dean pulled him all the closer and held on as tight as he could.

“Dean.”

He glanced up and had to blink several times to see through his tears. Castiel stood behind him, eyes flaring with his own strong Grace. His gaze softened when he caught sight of Sam, face twisted in pain and grief, and then the mask of thinly-veiled rage came back up. “We need to go. Now.”

It made his blood heat, boil in his veins, made his Grace surge forward with the urge to _slaughter_ , because Asmodeus had hurt both of his little brothers, had nearly killed Sam and done who knew what to Gabriel, and Castiel was telling him that they had to leave before justice had been served.

Castiel at least seemed to sense the sudden turn from grief to rage. “Sam needs Raphael’s help,” he said. “So does Gabriel. We have to get them out, Dean. They’re priority.”

Yes, they were. But Dean was absolutely coming back for Asmodeus’s head.

Sam made a pained sound, small but loud enough to shove a dagger through Dean’s heart. Instantly his rage took a backseat because Sam _was_ in a bad shape. Lucifer needed to get to Raphael days ago. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Sammy, I’m here, I’ve got you. It’s gonna be all right.”

Sam shook his head and mouthed something, something Dean couldn’t catch. He frowned and leaned down in to hear.

“Lil’ one,” Sam breathed. “Lil’ one.”

Gabriel. “He’s here,” Dean promised. “Gabe’s right here, aren’t you Gabe?”

Gabriel said nothing, just stared with wide, pained eyes, and seriously, Dean needed his blade carving Asmodeus up right the fuck now.

Sam and Gabriel first. Then Asmodeus.

He pulled Sam to him as gently as he dared but Sam still whimpered, fucking _whimpered_ , when he gathered his brother into his arms. Gabriel jerked like the sound hurt him, and Dean fought to take even breaths. He was under no illusion that his Grace was at the forefront because he felt like he could take on and kill just about anybody at this point.

He used his Grace instead to keep his little brother held tightly against him, wings brushing against Sam. Lucifer’s Grace was so low that all he could see was Sam’s soul, still lit up and desperately holding on.

More than past time to get to Raphael.

“We’re gone,” he said, letting the archangel take over, and Michael took off, flying fast through the door and out of Hell, straight to Bobby’s as fast as he could. In his arms was his little brother, cradled as carefully as could be. Despite his anger and grief and pure _rage_ , Michael’s constant litany was gentle and soothing, and it didn’t stop until they reached Raphael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patience, I promise. Asmodeus will get what's coming to him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the comfort that has long been denied. I promise I'll make it better.

Pain. Everything hurt.

Wings shifted and sent more pain waves echoing through him, and it came out in a gasp. Taste of blood in his mouth left his stomach churning. His Grace felt weak, cold, and panic filled him. Not the Cage, no, he was out, he was safe-

Warmth wrapped around him so fast he felt dizzy. Two distinct sources of warm concern, one that slid inside his chest and let him breathe, knitting things back together and helping strengthen his Grace, and the other…

The other that cradled every part of him, protected and shielded him. _Safe,_ he heard. _I got you, little brother, and you’re safe._

The other warmth brushed against his consciousness and lulled him to sleep. _Rest, bright one. You are in a safe place where nothing can hurt you, and we will look after you._

There was another warmth he usually felt that was gone, and he tried to seek it out. He reached out just as he faded out and felt a tinge of something dim, why was it so dim-

And then he was out.

Raphael had seen a lot of damage in his existence. Wings burnt and torn, bloody brothers and sisters desperate for healing, even ruined Grace that became an emergency as a matter of life and death. He’d been a healer for his entire life: he’d literally seen it all.

So when he considered his two brothers to have been the worst cases he’d ever seen, it was with a great deal of gravity.

Damaged Grace could be healed. A distinct lack thereof was a complete other thing. Asmodeus had siphoned so much of Lucifer’s Grace that his brother was almost unrecognizable. The fact that he still had his wings and hadn’t Fallen again was a miracle. Thankfully, he’d had two ready donors, and with both Raphael and Michael’s Grace bolstering his own, Lucifer would make a full recovery. Eventually.

With his Grace in better form, his physical body was healing nicely. It wouldn’t take too long to get him moving, though it would be slowly and with some aching. It was clear that Asmodeus had used his touch and tools to render the damage, which had done double the hurt to an angelic being. It made Raphael want to do some damage of his own.

Not his place. He had his work cut out here for him, keeping Lucifer’s Grace from flagging. He wished he could take his brother to Heaven where he’d heal in no time at all, but it still wasn’t a safe place for him. He didn’t dare risk Lucifer anywhere else, so Singer’s former panic room had become a room of healing. It would do and keep his brothers safe.

It was sad that Lucifer’s case was the easiest. His eyes turned to his youngest brother, exactly where he’d been left: sitting in the chair at the end of the bed that held Lucifer, watching Lucifer intently, still and silent.

His body had been healed, and the only thing that remained of Gabriel’s encounter with Asmodeus was a scab on his wings that wouldn’t even be there for another day or so. The sight of the wing made something dark and ugly curl inside of Raphael, and he forced it away. He needed to stay calm, stay warm, stay focused on healing. Anything else would risk Lucifer.

But Gabriel made the rage rise more in Raphael than perhaps anything else, because there was nothing he could _do_.

“Gabriel,” he called, and Gabriel tensed but said nothing. “Little one,” he tried coaxing, but to no avail. Gabriel kept himself focused on Lucifer. There was no energy, no random tapping of fingers or toes, no snark, no _Gabriel_. And there was no reason for it.

The only thing that Gabriel had done that had shown any sort of life was when they’d tried to get him upstairs. He’d all but clawed Michael’s eyes out in trying to stay with Lucifer, so they’d let him, hoping it would encourage their brother to be, well, himself again.

But there’d been nothing. Only Grace that should’ve been stronger than Lucifer’s but was more dimmed in comparison.

As hesitantly as he dared, Raphael reached out and brushed a hand over Gabriel’s head, stroking the golden hair back. Gabriel closed his eyes and then actually leaned into it. That was all Raphael needed, and he pulled Gabriel tightly into his embrace. His little brother slumped, as if all his energy had been taken and he couldn’t hold himself up. Raphael’s wings came out and wrapped themselves around Gabriel as well, keeping him safe in both arms and wings. His Grace, too, gently brushed around Gabriel like a blanket. He felt Michael’s Grace above them stir at the action, but he was hesitant, as if not sure that he would help, could help. Leaving it to Raphael, trusting him, watching and waiting.

It made Raphael ache for a whole different reason. Father above had he _missed_ his brothers.

For a long moment, nothing happened, save for the gentle rise and fall of their breaths. Unnecessary, but soothing. He longed to do something else, anything else, but even as he considered it, a voice not his own spoke up inside of him. _Leave him be for a moment, Raphael. PTSD isn’t exactly something you can rush._

His vessel was a healer, too. Raphael wasn’t entirely certain what Toni did, but it involved long hours and a hospital. _PTSD?_ he sent back.

_Gabriel’s been through trauma. Sam, too. This is more than just physical here. You’ve got to approach them both with some patience. Until we know what their triggers are and what’s going to make them flash back or think about what that asshole did to them, patience. I’ve seen my fair share of survivors and veterans to know that rushing them won’t help at all._

He believed her. He stayed where he was, letting Gabriel take what he needed. Michael waited, too, though with far less patience from what Raphael could feel.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Gabriel’s Grace brushed back against his. It felt weak and frightened, as if waiting to be struck, but Raphael only lent him warmth and strength. _I’m here, little one,_ he prayed. _Gabriel, you are safe. We have you. Speak to me, tell me what happened. I’m here._

In an instant Gabriel’s Grace rose up and curled up against his, seeking and finding a safe hiding place. Raphael wrapped around him in every way that he could. “Gabriel, talk to me,” Raphael said. Gabriel’s eyes were shut tight, one hand on Raphael’s arm, the other on Lucifer’s foot at the end of the bed. “Gabriel, little one.”

Gabriel parted his lips as if to speak, then suddenly flinched and shook his head rapidly. The emotions that flew out of his Grace went by so fast that Raphael winced. _Fear_ and _pain_ and _nonono_ and a vague memory of Lucifer being torn into by the demon who had to be Asmodeus. It made Raphael ‘s Grace rise up in rage and Michael’s Grace suddenly disappear. Dean must have blocked him off in the wake of the memory.

He swallowed it all back and stayed as calm as he could for Gabriel. “You’re not there anymore,” he assured him. “You and Lucifer are safe.”

He checked Gabriel over for physical injuries one more time, but aside from the healing wing and random bruises, he was fine. Nowhere near as bad as Lucifer was. What had Asmodeus done?

He needed to go talk with Dean. For now, however, he stayed where he was, wrapped around his youngest brother with eyes on his other little brother.

Watching Sam get ripped apart by Asmodeus through Gabriel’s eyes was almost more than Dean could stand. It was more than Michael could stand, if the glass panes rattling had been any indication, and he’d shoved his Grace down as quickly as he could. No sense ruining Bobby’s house.

Ellen raised an eyebrow at him from her seat in the kitchen as the windows stopped shaking. “Got some excess energy?” she asked wryly.

“More like pissed-off energy,” he told her. He kept pacing back and forth in the living room. “Things you don’t realize until you’re an angel: you can share lots of things telepathically with other angels. Like memories of little brothers getting tortured.”

Ellen’s face went pale. “That…probably wasn’t in the recruitment brochure,” she finally said.

No, it wasn’t. He’d seen Sam in a lot of bad situations before, bloody and bruised and broken. But this had been beyond all of those. Mangled and hanging like a corpse, screaming as Asmodeus tore through him-

The windows started rattling again. “Easy, Dean,” Bobby cautioned. Dean felt his Grace flare and pulled it back before it could upset Gabriel. Raphael had finally, _finally_ , gotten something out of their youngest brother, and he wasn’t going to undo it because he couldn’t keep his temper at bay. The Michael part of him recognized that, at least, because the Dean part was having some problems.

They’d taken _his_ brothers and _hurt_ them. That wasn’t something that he would suffer easily. At that particular moment, he didn’t even care if handing Crowley the throne of Hell meant that they’d have more demons to deal with on Earth. As long as Asmodeus was dead, that was all that mattered.

A hand rested on his shoulder, further helping him settle. “C’mon, I got a few cars I could use your holy help with,” Bobby said, and Dean let out a helpless snort. “Better you go breaking windows outside than inside.”

He found his gaze moving towards Ellen and Jo almost guiltily, because they hadn’t deserved to be stuck on a rescue mission and pissed-off archangels. The last thing he wanted was to scare them or freak them out.

But when he glanced at them, they were watching with understanding. “We’re not dainty daisies,” Ellen told him. “Or faintin’ flowers or whatever the term is.”

“We’re okay, Dean,” Jo told him. “Just as worried about Sam and Gabriel as you are, and I haven’t even really _met_ Gabriel. But…he matters to you. So that matters to us.”

With his Grace, it was easy to see her soul shining so bright, but there wasn’t the pulling of her heart that he knew had been there once. It was love, but the kind that he saw from Sam or Gabe, Raph or Bobby. The kind of love for someone who meant the world to you. The kind of love for family.

He saw the same love in Ellen and it left him warmed inside, that these two counted him and Sam as part of their family. It was the same warmth he had in the fact that Bobby had adopted them and claimed them as his sons. He still wasn’t sure he deserved it but he’d be selfish enough to cling to it.

Somehow, he’d wound up with a huge family, both human and angelic, and every single one of them would fight to defend him and his brothers. It was humbling.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost missed the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Everyone turned to see Raphael coming up to the main floor, business coat gone, sleeves rolled up. It was the person in front of him, though, that Dean had all eyes for.

Gabriel.

He stepped forward, no longer hesitant, and met his youngest brother at the top of the stairs. Gabriel watched him, exhaustion hanging off of him, and then he was in Dean’s arms. Gabriel’s Grace was quiet and tired, and small, so fucking _small_ , but he wrapped his arms around Dean in return. Progress. Small steps.

“Let’s get you something to eat,” he finally said, voice rough. “Anything you want.”

“I know I’ve got that licorice you insist on eating,” Bobby said in a soft voice, and it was a testament to either how tired Gabriel was or how much he trusted Bobby, because he didn’t even flinch at Bobby’s offer, just moved to follow him into the kitchen. He stopped when he saw Ellen and Jo, but Jo just pulled out a chair next to her mom. The soft lull of her voice as she introduced herself slowly pulled Gabriel towards the table, and Ellen’s voice mixed with Jo’s, telling her daughter to get a drink, find the licorice, and Gabriel probably wanted something more than just sugar, Ellen could fix him just about anything-

By the time Gabriel sat down, he was no longer tense and had actually leaned towards Ellen. Ellen rested a hand on his shoulder with concern in her face, a mother through and through, clearly determined not to leave his side. Her soul flared, bright and beautiful, matching Jo’s as the young woman moved around the kitchen in a determined fashion. Protecting Gabriel within moments of meeting him, because he was family, too.

Dean closed his eyes for a long moment and felt Bobby’s hand return to his shoulder, gripping hard. “One of these days, you idjits are gonna realize you’re loved,” Bobby muttered, but his hand was an anchor that Dean leaned on.

“Keep reminding us,” Dean choked out, and he had to swallow twice to get his emotions back under control. “One day it’ll stick.”

He glanced at Raphael who still stood next to him, weary but with a burning fire of rage in his eyes. “How are they?” he asked, voice pitched low.

“Healing,” Raphael told him immediately. “But it’ll take time. Lucifer’s injuries were severe without the Grace to heal them, but with your donation of Grace and mine, he’ll be fine. And if we need more Grace, I have donors waiting.”

“Cas?” Dean asked, not surprised, but Raphael finally gave a small smile.

“And Sidria and Ezekiel, too. All of them made the offer before taking their leave.”

Bobby spoke when Dean couldn’t find the words. “They do know who it’s goin’ to, right?”

“To Heylel, now Lucifer, now Sam Winchester,” Raphael confirmed. “Yes. They know exactly who. I did tell you they were amongst our strongest allies. I’ve not asked Anael, as she’s dealing with the healing needed in Heaven while I’m here, but I would imagine she’d offer as well.”

It meant so much to know that they had angels on their side, angels willing to protect Sam despite the rumors and the history of the Mark, and Dean didn’t even know where to start. As Michael, giving them higher stations would be a start. Dean just wanted to give them all bear hugs. They’d probably appreciate both, but the ranking would mean more in the long run.

“Where are they now?” Bobby asked. Ellen and Jo glanced in at that. “They got somethin’ they need help with?”

Dean shook his head. “Fulfilling our end of the bargain. They’re escorting Crowley and Meg somewhere safe.” Castiel hadn’t exactly been enamored with the idea of protecting the second demon, but in the wake of finding Lucifer as they had, well. Cas had come around to the idea of letting her live. “I don’t want them anywhere near Hell or _him_ until we make our move.”

“I’m not sure it’ll be with the strength of four archangels,” Raphael said quietly. “Lucifer _will_ heal, but it may take time. I don’t know how quickly his Grace will bounce back. He could be fine by this afternoon. He could stay asleep for another two weeks. The fact that he woke already, seeking out Gabriel, that’s a very good sign. His Grace is responding and the physical wounds will heal.”

Mentally, well. That was the biggest crux of things. Dean glanced at Gabriel in the kitchen, silently eating the leftover lasagna that Jo must’ve pulled out, then back at Raphael. “And Gabe?”

Rage flickered in Raphael’s eyes, enough that Bobby tensed beside Dean. “Physically, he’s healing well, and he’s capable of speaking,” Raphael said slowly, as if he were unable to comprehend the words coming out of his own mouth. “Nothing’s keeping him from speaking.”

Except that he’d witnessed his older brother being tortured and been tortured himself. Dean ground his teeth until he thought they’d shatter. Raphael’s eyes were a constant state of angry blue, his Grace unable to back down, and Dean was sure his own were violently green. Almost as violent as the tendencies that were starting to creep into his fists.

If it hadn’t been for Crowley, they’d never have found out that Asmodeus had them as quickly as they did. That was twice now that Dean owed the demon. At this point, however, he was tempted to get down and kiss the asshole’s feet. Because of him, he had both of his little brothers back.

Glancing at Gabriel’s silent form, fingers absently swirling patterns into the tabletop, he still wasn’t sure that statement could be made. He was very deliberately not thinking about the brother in the basement.

Who was he kidding? Sam was all he was thinking about. ‘Sam’ was an easier term, just as much as ‘Dean’ was at this point, because if he thought of Lucifer-

All he saw were the wings, knives piercing through them. All he saw was the blood dripping from his brother as he hung on the wall. All he saw was the Grace, so dim and lifeless, that his heart had stopped and stuttered in his chest because he’d thought Lucifer was dead.

“Go,” Raphael said, nodding towards the basement stairs. “I’ll stay here.”

Dean didn’t even pause, he simply turned and went. Because Raphael was right: nothing was going to take away that ache in his chest except for seeing Sam. He headed down the stairs, then stopped, hurried back to the front door and rummaged around in the small closet Bobby had. The item he needed hung just where he’d left it, and he grabbed it and hurried down to the basement.

He found two steps down that he couldn’t just _wait_ and he flew down to the bottom of the stairs and through the open door to the former panic room. A tinge of amusement came out of Raphael and, stunningly, _Gabriel_ , at his sudden flight, but then he ignored them both because there on the bed, sitting quietly and _awake_ , was Sam. Relief flooded Sam’s face when he saw Dean and Dean hurried to the bed, only to stop. Would Sam even want to be touched? Gabriel had only started coming back out of the shell that Asmodeus had shoved him into, and he hadn’t been carved up like Sam had-

A hand reached out and caught hold of his shirt, tugging him forward effortlessly. “Can you stop thinking and just hug me?” Sam mumbled.

He pulled Sam up against him and held onto him so tightly Sam probably couldn’t breathe, but screw it. He’d nearly lost his little brother. He was absolutely entitled to clinging to him.

Especially when he could just barely feel Lucifer’s Grace, better than it was but still so weak. Maybe another donation wouldn’t hurt. It had seemed silly when Raphael had mentioned it as a viable option, but in the end, Grace was just super celestial energy, unique to each angel but could be shared when it was done with love. And Michael absolutely had that in spades for his little brother.

“M’okay,” Sam muttered against him when Dean kept holding on to him. Dean only realized he was crying when tears trailed down his cheeks and onto the top of Sam's head. He inhaled a shaky breath and Sam tightened his own arms around Dean as much as he could.

They were together. Sam was safe and here. Gabriel was upstairs with family. He’d take what he could get.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait on this - I had to divide the chapter in order to update as it would've been an insanely huge chapter. It's been giving me fits and spurts. A little more rest before we dive back into the action.

Sam shivered and drew back, pulling his arms in to his chest. “S’cold down here,” he whispered.

He didn’t wait, just pulled the item he’d gotten from the closet out and started tugging it on top of Sam’s head. They’d taken to leaving the hoodie at Bobby’s and while it was Sam’s, Dean had stolen it a time or two himself. He heard a choking sound and hurried to get Sam’s head through, but he found his brother actually _chuckling_. “Mother hen much?” Sam said.

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for not waiting,” Dean managed to get out, his eyes suddenly burning again. He cupped his brother’s face in his hands and watched Sam lean into his touch. “You don’t want the mother hen, you better stay the fuck behind when I tell you to wait.”

“Duly noted,” Sam said, but he was still smiling, still talking, still _alive_. It was more than Dean could almost believe. He’d take his damn miracle and gladly accept it, though.

Sam’s smile fell slightly. “How, um, how bad are they?” he asked, and Dean realized he was asking about the wings.

Dean glanced at them and saw the edges that had been pinned already scabbing over. “Not as bad as you might think,” he admitted. “There’s a big section that’ll need to heal, but you’re doing better now that you have Grace to heal with.” He moved his gaze to Sam, only for his brother to meet his gaze solidly. “You barely had any, Luce-“

“He would’ve taken Gabriel’s Grace,” Sam said. “I wasn’t going to let it happen.”

Dean wouldn’t have either, not with a choice like that, and Sam knew it. But it explained Gabriel’s trauma. Lucifer had taken the torture for Gabriel: there was no way that hadn’t messed their little brother up.

Dean sighed and pushed himself to standing. “You want to tell me what the hell happened? I mean, I know he caught you with holy oil, but how did he get Gabe?”

“Gabriel hasn’t told you?” Sam asked.

Now or never. “Gabe hasn’t said a word since we found you guys,” Dean said. Sam flinched and turned away, but he didn’t particularly look surprised. “Not something new?”

“No,” Sam said quietly. “Asmodeus caught him with those cuffs, the Loki cuffs with the Enochian in them.”

“Where did Asmodeus get the damn cuffs from?” Dean exclaimed. “There’s only one way to bind Gabriel and Loki both, and Cas took the manacles from Gabriel’s house after-“

After the demons had attacked. Dean froze. Asmodeus had known that Loki was Gabriel and had come after him in the house. Which meant that all this time, Asmodeus had been working behind the scenes, too. Had he worked with Zachariah? Had he been the partner that Zach had had? A Prince of Hell might’ve had the knowledge of Heaven and angels to nudge four hunters towards Sam, too.

“Every time he talked, Asmodeus took it out on me.”

Dean turned his attention back from the whirlwind of his mind and frowned. “What?”

Sam curled up even tighter. His fingers played with the strings on the hoodie and wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes. “Every time Gabe talked, Asmodeus would turn his blade on me somehow. I tried to, to encourage Gabe to talk anyway because Gabriel needs that, but he eventually just…stopped trying.”

Dean shut his eyes tight. The near hysterical terror from Gabriel suddenly made a lot of sense.

“Please tell me he’s okay,” Sam said, voice so small, and Dean immediately sat down next to him. Sam’s eyes shone in the lights and were filled with fear, but it wasn’t for himself. “Dean, please.”

“He will be,” Dean said, hoping against hope he wasn’t lying. “He’ll be all right. We just…gotta give him time. Give you time, too. It’s not like you were down there plucking daisies.”

Sam hung his head and didn’t look at Dean. His Grace suddenly radiated shame, and Dean stared, perplexed. “What?” he asked. “Sammy-“

“It’s my fault,” Sam whispered. “It’s, it’s my fault.”

Hot rage filled him so suddenly Dean thought he’d explode. “The hell it is-“

“Asmodeus wanted me,” Sam said, stopping Dean in his tracks. “Asmodeus wanted _me_. He figured he’d have a better chance of getting me with bait. He kept Gabriel because of _me_.” He dashed his hand over his eyes angrily, his mouth turned down in a bitter smile. “Gabe was only there to hurt me, and Asmodeus…”

Sam finally looked up at him, and the shame and guilt were almost too much to bear. “Asmodeus wouldn’t have even wanted me to begin with if it weren’t for what I'd done. Hell, he wouldn’t have been a Prince of Hell if it weren’t for _me_. I did that.”

“You didn’t-“

“But I _did_. The minute Asmodeus started talking, the minute I saw him, it started coming back to me. Taking the twisted angels that Amara had made and giving them some of my Grace to give them more power. I made them what they were. And you know why I did it, Michael? Because I didn’t care. I was bored and it was, it was something to _do_. I was so fucking _stupid_ with that Mark and Gabriel’s paid the price.”

Dean stared, stunned into silence. The angels Amara had made? She’d created _angels_? That’s where the Princes of Hell had come from?

Sam turned away and buried his face in his hands. “Ramiel, Azazel, Dagon, Asmodeus. They’re all on me. And Asmodeus said that Ramiel and Dagon, that he was going to bring them down to Hell to rule, that they would usher in a new era of demons, of Hell on Earth. My ‘original’ plan,” Sam choked out miserably. "Zachariah was right."

“That was the plan that Amara had,” Dean said, because enough was enough of this. “You were quoting Amara on a daily basis, being controlled by the Mark, none of that was _you_. And Zachariah wasn't right at all.”

But Sam just shook his head. Dean tried to duck down, tried to get his brother to look at him, tried to get through to him in some way, because this wasn’t on Sam. The Mark had taken his little brother and infected him, possessed him, into something that he wasn’t. Michael well remembered how he’d finally bought a clue as to what was happening whenever Lucifer had spat out a line that had sounded _exactly_ like Amara.

That was when he’d gone to Father and begged for help with the Mark.

“Luce,” he said, because Sam wasn’t getting the message. His brother flinched and buried himself further. “Lucifer, it wasn’t your fault-“

“Don’t,” he whispered. “You can’t say that. Not with Gabriel upstairs, not even talking, tortured because of me.”

He glanced around at the room and cringed. “You know, when I woke up down here, I figured that you knew that. That it was my fault. And that I deserved to be down here again.”

Dean flailed, lost, and thankfully the Michael part of him could manage because the human part of him felt overwhelmed. He pulled his little brother to him and held on tight. Sam felt like a steel rod, tense all over, in his embrace. “You’re down here because this is the safest room in the entire house,” Michael told him quietly. “And this is never going to be a room to cage you or make you feel ashamed again. You’re here because only the safest of havens was good enough to protect you, and this was it.”

Sam said nothing, but Lucifer’s weak Grace brushed against his. _Promise?_ Lucifer sent to him, pleading with his Grace when he couldn’t get his voice to speak for him.

_I promise,_ he sent back. His voice couldn’t seem to work, either.

Lucifer swallowed hard. “You should go tell Raph and the others,” he whispered when he managed to speak. “I’ll be up in a bit to talk with you guys.”

“I’m not leaving you down here,” Michael said firmly. “You’re coming up with me.”

“I need a minute.”

“Luce-“

“Michael, please,” Lucifer begged, and his Grace twitched anxiously. “Give me a minute. I, I can feel Ellen and Jo up there and-“

Oh fuck, he hadn’t considered that. “They know and it’s fine-“

“I just can’t,” Lucifer admitted. “Telling everyone what I did, and then them, I…”

Through Lucifer’s Grace he could feel the relevance, of Jo as the little sister he loved and Ellen as the mom he’d never had. They were more than just a sense of family, they had designations. And he knew Lucifer could feel Gabriel upstairs, muted and so small.

He pulled himself together for his little brother and Dean answered, voice rough. “Yeah, all right. Don’t stay down here by yourself too long, all right? I’ll be right upstairs, the door’s open, just…just come on up.”

It was Sam who bowed his head and sat on the bed, curled up on himself. Dean felt his wings slide towards his little brother, the urge to comfort or do _anything_ so strong he thought he wouldn’t be able to breathe, but he forced himself to pull back. Sam needed time. Lucifer needed time and space for a little bit.

He also needed confirmation. “You’re not upstairs in five minutes, I’m coming down to get you,” he warned, and Lucifer’s Grace sparked with gratitude and even a little joy at the blatant display of love from Dean. Sam didn’t move, but he didn’t have to. His Grace gave him away.

It was one of the hardest things Dean had ever done, but he forced himself back up the stairs. He stood at the top of the stairs for a long moment and felt his insides churn at the amount of pain both of his little brothers held. If he’d been faster, if he’d kept track of them better, if if if…

He moved further in and found Bobby, Jo, and Ellen all gone, but he could feel their souls upstairs, clearing out another guest room. Giving Gabriel time to himself. He glanced inside and found Gabe sitting at the kitchen table right where he’d been before, fingers gently wrapped around a sweating glass and eyes focused on nothing in particular. It was just so…wrong. All of it.

He rested his head against the wood of the wall in front of him and felt traitorous tears leak out the sides. He dashed them away angrily with the back of his hand. He didn’t deserve to cry. He’d failed them both and now Sam was blaming _himself_. Because of course he was.

“He will heal.”

There was no point in even raising his head. “Will he?” he whispered. “Because that damage is pretty bad. Asmodeus ripped through him like tissue paper.”

“Because Asmodeus was ready for him. Gabriel was bait. He was never the real target. You have to know that.”

He did. It didn’t make it any easier. “The damage done to his wings-“

“The wings are already healing, and will continue to heal in time with his Grace. Even his Grace is no longer as dim as it was before. It’s coming back. I promise you that, Michael. Lucifer _will_ be all right.”

After a moment, Raphael rested a hand on his shoulder. “And so will Gabriel,” he added, but Raphael didn’t sound as sure at that.

The silence felt like knives in his skin, digging away bloody holes. Wrong. It was so _wrong_. Gabriel was never silent.

Except now, now he knew why. “Asmodeus punished Sam,” Dean said roughly. “Whenever Gabriel talked. I guess Luce kept encouraging Gabe to talk anyway but eventually Gabe just clammed up.”

“Well… _fuck_.”

Dean blinked and turned around. Raphael’s cheeks were pink but he glared at Dean. “What?” he snapped. “I’m not allowed to curse?”

“No, you can, it’s just…y’know. Like hearing a Yorkie speak in a deep low tone instead of a high-pitched yappy one.”

“I’d think the dog speaking in general would be of greater concern than the timbre and pitch of his voice,” Raphael said dryly.

“Or a little old lady belting out hair metal songs,” Dean said. “You just don’t expect it.”

“Yes, well. I was angry. I still am. And if she wants to sing hair metal songs, well, she should be allowed to do that.”

Dean stared at him for a moment before snorting helplessly. Raphael’s lips turned up, and then suddenly they were both laughing hysterically, clinging to each other and laughing until tears ran down their face. If their laughter turned more sob a few times, neither of them mentioned it.

A pair of golden eyes watched them from the kitchen, and there was a small amount of life in them. Dean held his breath as Gabriel seemed to gear up to speak, then stopped and turned back to the table.

So close. He’d get back to talking again, he knew it. Gabe _had_ to.

The creaking of the stairs made Dean and Raphael both freeze and glance over. There, at the top of the stairs, stood Sam, who raised an eyebrow at them. “You guys all right?” he finally asked, voice rough.

“I’m angry,” Raphael said, completely serious, and it was nearly enough to set Dean off again. “And little old ladies deserve to sing metal songs and curse as much as they want.”

Unbelievably, the corner of Sam’s lips turned up. “That sounds like an analogy Dean would make,” he said softly. He tugged the strings on the hoodie, as if he didn’t know what else to do with himself, and Dean could see all of his wings curl behind him with guilt and shame. It made him want to beat his head against the wall a few more times. Or maybe Asmodeus’s head. That would be better.

Sam’s lips actually turned up even more, and there was a snort from the kitchen. “Projecting a little hard there, Michael,” Raphael half-warned, but he looked like it was an idea that appealed to him, too. Bloodthirsty little thing. It was a good look on him.

Sam glanced past them into the kitchen, and his face twisted with grief. “Gabe,” he called a little louder, and he swallowed hard. “Little one.”

The only sound that followed was the sudden scraping of a chair, and then Gabriel ran into the room and straight into Sam’s waiting arms. Sam shut his eyes and held tight to Gabriel, their Graces entwining around each other just as hard. “I’m here,” Sam whispered. It was Dean’s turn to swallow hard at the sight. “I’m here, Gabe.”

It was all Dean could do to keep from joining them. His own Grace felt whole again at the sight of all of his siblings, safe in one room.

He just wished it could last. But he could see the shadow of self-loathing in Lucifer’s Grace, the guilt that was burning through him. And after what Sam had told him downstairs, it’d come out sooner rather than later.

He just hoped that after everything, he could save Sam from what he’d learned was the most dangerous thing to his little brother: Sam himself.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized I hadn't completely explained my canon-changes in the last chapter, and I definitely delve into them more in this chapter.
> 
> While canonically, as far as I understand, Amara never created angels on her own and Lucifer is supposed to be completely responsible for creating the Princes of Hell, I sort of feel like Amara could have tried her hand at it, proving she was just as capable of doing what her brother could do. If HE had angels, SHE could have angels sort of thing. 
> 
> Except it didn't really work out. And she wound up creating these half-angel things that weren't good and had no real lick of Grace in them. 
> 
> That's where Lucifer comes in, in my version of things. Lucifer gave his Grace to the Princes while he was under the influence of the Mark, making the donated Grace all the more twisted and evil. What you got were the four Princes.
> 
> Hope this makes sense and is a little bit of a fun twist on canon!

Sam pulled back a little from his embrace with Gabriel, eyes filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-“

Before Dean could say anything, Gabriel leaned back and actually cuffed Sam upside the back of his head with a pissed-off look on his face. _Knock it off,_ was clearly heard in the action, and Sam huffed a watery laugh. “Yeah, all right,” he said quietly. “I still am, though. You never would’ve gotten messed up in all of this if it weren’t for me.”

Gabriel’s lips parted, and he looked as if all he wanted to do was talk. When he couldn’t get his voice behind it, though, a frustrated sound came out, a growl that held a bit of his True Voice behind it. “Easy, Gabe,” Dean said. “I already almost broke the glass in here once today. You don’t need to try again.”

“It will come,” Raphael soothed in his ever-patient voice. “I assure you. Just give yourself time. _Both_ of you,” he added, giving Sam a firm glare. “There is no need for apologies.”

“Yes, there is,” Sam insisted, pain in his eyes. “You don’t understand. What he’s doing, it’s…it’s what I told him I wanted done originally. My main plan-”

“Amara’s main plan,” Dean said angrily, because no way was Sam taking the blame for this. Not now, not ever again. “You were being controlled by the Mark, Luce.”

Sam shook his head, refusing to be absolved. “But Asmodeus took it to heart either way and now, now he’s trying to pull together the remaining Princes of Hell to get back on track. And he needed Grace to do it. Hell, he wouldn’t have even been a Prince if it hadn’t been for me. That’s because of _me._ ”

“You need to breathe,” Raphael said, sounding a little alarmed, and for good reason. Sam had started taking gasps for air between his self-flagellation, and his voice had gotten increasingly higher. Hyperventilation: all they needed at this point.

Gabriel looked like he was going to start panicking at any minute, and Dean moved forward to the both of them without thought. “Sam, sit down,” he ordered. “Gabe, sit with him and keep him from panicking. Raph, any chance you could get some hot tea going?”

Raphael immediately disappeared in a rush of wings to the kitchen, completely unnecessary but Dean could appreciate why. Sam all but fell into the couch, trying to breathe with Gabriel’s hand on his back. Gabriel kept his eyes locked on Sam, looking as if he were willing Sam to just breathe, and Dean’s mind filled with a memory of Lucifer and Gabriel before the Mark, huddled together on Earth, Lucifer’s wings over a very young Gabriel as they watched a thunderstorm for the first time. They’d flown off to see it and Michael had found them, soaked and clinging to each other but still absolutely enthralled-

He settled down beside Sam and pushed hair back from his brother’s face. Without any hesitation his Grace flowed out and wrapped around both of his little brothers. Gabriel’s Grace came out then, no longer dim but warm, holding on to Lucifer with everything he had. Lucifer shut his eyes tight, his wings pulled in against himself. Gabriel’s Grace actually flared brighter in response, stubborn and determined, and it actually made Michael feel that much better to see. They weren’t lost, Gabriel _would_ talk again, and Lucifer would stop beating himself up over crap that wasn’t his fault.

Then again, Sam had thought the whole Apocalypse-Almost thing was his fault too, and probably still did.

“Anything I can get you boys?”

Bobby stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching them. His eyes were clearly all for Sam, though, and when Sam looked up, Bobby actually smiled at him. Guess Bobby really _was_ worried.

“I have tea for everyone,” Raphael said. “Including for you and Ellen and Jo, if you’d like some.”

As if their names had summoned them, Ellen and Jo made their way down the stairs. Like they hadn’t been waiting for Bobby to feel out what was going on. “Tea’d be great,” Ellen said. She glanced at Sam and gave him a bright smile that seemed to extend from her soul. “You don’t mind if I put a splash of somethin’ in it, do you?”

Sam huffed out a small laugh. “Only if you don’t put a splash in mine.”

“Heathens, the both of you,” Jo muttered. “Tea doesn’t need whiskey.”

“No, but it makes it fancy,” Bobby deadpanned and Gabriel grinned. Sam’s breathing leveled out even more, and his wings even unfurled a bit. Not that anyone but the angels could see it, but it spoke volumes to Dean and made him relax a little at the sight.

Raphael brought tea in and quickly dispersed mugs. He handed Sam his and rested a hand on his head, smiling when Sam glanced at up at him. “You bounced back faster than I thought you would, bright one,” he said. “But I imagine that’s because of your being a Winchester more than anything else.”

Sam’s lips turned up. “Stubbornness is sort of a Winchester trait.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Bobby muttered. He grabbed the whiskey and poured a liberal amount into his mug, then stopped and glared at Gabriel. “Don’t you _dare_.”

Gabriel merely raised his hands, but his eyes danced. He began to speak, but when nothing came out, his smile fell, and his Grace dimmed. “Patience, Gabe,” Dean told him. “You heard Raph. It’ll come.”

Jo grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured herself a straight shot. “So, who wants to start?” she said. “Because I think we’re sorta at that point of sharing and caring.”

Sam tensed, and Dean remembered what he’d said downstairs about Jo and Ellen. “You know about the archangel thing,” Dean said, stepping in. “It’s a new and improved Winchester, that’s all.”

“Dean, we told you, it’s fine,” Ellen said, giving him a knowing look. “We know he’s Lucifer and not the Devil.” She moved her gaze to Sam and poured a splash of whiskey in his mug, then raised hers in salute. “Congratulations on the wings. It gonna keep you any safer?”

Sam swallowed hard. “Usually does. This, uh, last time notwithstanding.”

“Then that sounds more like a target,” Ellen said. She made a face. “Tell me we get a shot at this jackass who took both of ‘em.”

“If there’s anything left of him when I get through,” Dean promised, but his Grace surged at the thought of tearing Asmodeus apart. He was going to enjoy it, too. “As soon as Cas gets back, we’re going to find Asmodeus-“

“ **No**!”

The shout from Sam shook the windows with his True Voice and was echoed by a loud cry from Gabriel who looked horrified at the idea. Sam looked shaken, eyes wide. “No,” Sam said again, this time at a softer decibel. “You’re, you’re not going after Asmodeus.”

 _You have to be kidding me, Luce,_ he shot out but Sam just pursed his lips. “Sam-“

“You can’t take on a Prince of Hell,” Sam began, but Dean just flared his wings, making the books and papers in the room rustle with the wind. Like hell he wasn’t a match for that asshole demon. Lucifer and Gabriel would’ve been enough to handle him too if they hadn’t gotten sidelined. Michael was going to ensure that didn’t happen.

Jo glanced around a little warily. “Easy,” Bobby warned.

“I’m not afraid of Asmodeus,” Dean said. “And you shouldn’t be, either. Neither of you,” he added, looking at Gabriel. Gabriel looked down at his feet but Dean could at least feel a glimmer of frustration pouring off of his little brother’s Grace.

Sam shook his head. “Not, not like that. You won’t just be going up against Asmodeus. He’s got more planned.”

“Like what?” Bobby said, suddenly hyper focused. Ellen leaned in closer, and even Raphael looked intent on hearing what it was.

Sam bit his lip hard enough that Dean nearly reached out to stop him. His voice, when he finally spoke, was almost a whisper. “Like Asmodeus calling up the remaining Princes of Hell and leading a massive contingent of demons to kill the archangels and bring Hell to Earth.”

Dean glanced at Gabriel but the youngest angel didn’t so much as look at him. He didn’t look surprised by what Sam said, either.

“Is that all,” Ellen muttered. She looked to be eying the whiskey again. Dean didn’t blame her. If Asmodeus was planning on reenacting the original prophecy from Lucifer’s side of it, of ending the archangels and bringing an army of demons to the surface, then there was a good chance he was Zachariah’s unknown buddy. Which explained why Asmodeus was probably pissed at Lucifer for not doing what he was supposed to do.

It made sense, except…Zachariah had figured he was the savior of Heaven. No way would Zachariah lower himself to join forces with a demon. Right?

Dean only realized that the room had gone silent when Raphael spoke next. “This would be even more reason to take on Asmodeus now than later, bright one. Before he’s even more of a problem than he is now.”

Too late to stop Raphael, Dean could only flinch as he realized Sam had the rope to hang himself, and he took it in an instant. “He wouldn’t even _be_ a problem if it weren’t for me.”

“Don’t even start, Sam,” Dean said tightly. “That’s not our focus right now. You said Asmodeus is planning to dredge up the worst that Hell has to offer and lay it at our feet. That means getting rid of Asmodeus now is what needs to happen next. I can take him. Raph can take him. _You_ and Gabe can take him.”

“But what you need right now is to rest,” Raphael finished. “Your wings are still damaged and your Grace isn’t up to snuff. Anything beyond a simple flight would leave you exhausted. Honestly, the fact that you’re up and moving at all is stunning. I don’t need you overdoing it.”

It was a valiant attempt to refocus back on Sam healing, but his little brother wasn’t having it. “And what if Asmodeus is ready for the both of you? Ready to, to take you and he goes somewhere that isn’t Hell?”

This fear, Dean understood. His anger faded in the wake of Sam’s anxiousness. “We’re going with a contingent,” Dean assured him. “It won’t be one on one. You’ll be here safe with others and I’ll deal with Asmodeus. Back in time for the late-night creature feature.”

“But what if…” And Sam couldn’t continue, swallowing hard, fear evident.

There wasn’t much that Dean could honestly say to make things better. Sam wouldn’t be there to back Dean up, to keep him safe. He knew Sam would worry about being a burden, about being useless if Dean was in danger, because it’s exactly how Dean would feel if their situations were reversed. And there wasn’t much that Sam could’ve said to make Dean feel better, either.

But it didn’t mean he couldn’t try. “We’ll be careful,” Dean promised. “And we’ll stick together. I’ll come back, I promise.”

“And we’ll be here to protect you both,” Jo said confidently. “Killing demons is my specialty. Especially ones that hurt people I care about.”

“Not sure how we’d do against a Prince of Hell, but I’ll be happy to try,” Ellen added.

Their determination was enough to make Sam’s lips turn up at last, if just for a moment. “You sure you don’t want backup for yourselves outside of the winged bunch?” Bobby asked Dean. “Much as I want to stay and keep an eye on Sam and Gabriel, I want you protected, too.”

Bobby’s unconditional love was still something that Dean couldn’t fathom sometimes, and it never failed to make his chest tight with emotion. Still, he shook his head. “I’ll have Cas, Sidria, and Zeke.” Ezekiel was proving to be a competent angel that would make a good captain. After Castiel’s promotion which he still didn’t know was coming, there’d be an opening. “Raph and I’ll be fine. I’d rather you were here to protect Sam and Gabriel.”

A flare of something shot out from Sam’s weakened Grace, fear and images of Dean being potentially subdued, overlaid with memories of Asmodeus digging into him, mixed in with self-loathing and visions of yellow eyes-

_Asmodeus digging a blade into Lucifer’s leg, hot and horrible and pulling so much Grace out. “Honestly, you’re a disgrace, Lucifer. First you couldn’t be a good enough angel to get to stay in Heaven, instead givin’ me and the others power beyond our dreams. Then you couldn’t be evil enough to deserve the throne of Hell. And it don’t look like your human life is any better. Demon blood, trusting demons…and you’re surprised that you wound up here?” The blade dug so deep that his leg felt like it was on fire and Grace poured out of the wound._

It was almost more than Dean could stand. Gabriel flinched away and even Raphael shook himself as if stunned. “Sam-“

Sam shook his head desperately. “No, I didn’t mean for that to…look, you’re putting yourself in danger, facing off against a demon that’s got as much power as Azazel had, if not more-“

“We weren’t archangels the last time we went off against Azazel,” Dean cut in. Because focusing on how Sam hadn’t meant to let that memory slip spoke volumes that he couldn’t handle at the moment.

“And Asmodeus is worse,” Sam insisted. “He took out Gabriel, he took out _me_. He can handle archangels. And it’s all on me. So much of what we’ve had to deal with comes down to me.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Bobby said incredulously. “Ain’t your fault Asmodeus is comin’ after you.”

“Yes, it is,” Sam said miserably. He buried his face in his hands for a moment and when he looked up, his eyes were red. “I gave four angel rejects power beyond what they could’ve gotten on their own, and created the Princes of Hell. Azazel, Asmodeus, the damage they’ve done, the people they’ve killed, it’s all because of the power I gave them years ago.”

“That was under the Mark,” Dean said firmly. “You were under the influence of the worst possession known to creation.”

“Mark?” Ellen asked, bewildered.

“Angel rejects?” Bobby asked, glancing at Dean.

“The Mark of Cain that was originally on Lucifer to keep the worst thing in the entire universe from getting out, known as Amara, or the Darkness,” Dean summed up as fast as he could. They deserved a better explanation but that wasn’t something he could do at the moment. “It possessed Lucifer and made him do-“

“Quit blaming the Mark!” Sam said, eyes wide and almost angry. “They were my actions! And they’ve caused more damage than just handing Amara’s reject angels power they never should’ve had.”

“Wait, you mean these Princes of Hell, they were _angels_?” Jo said, eyes wide.

“Amara made angels?” Bobby asked, and Dean could all but see his brain racing and putting two and two together. “You mean she _tried_ to create angels and wound up with them instead. And given that she’s the Darkness, they were messed up sons of bitches from the start.”

“And made more powerful after I gave them Grace to grow.” Sam glanced away but it was towards Gabriel, who was watching him with pain in his eyes. It wasn’t for himself, it was for Sam, but Sam immediately turned away, face burning with shame. Gabriel’s eyes widened in realization, and he opened his mouth, only to shut it again, frustration all but rolling off of him.

Well, if Gabriel couldn’t talk, Dean could. “They were a mess from the start, like Bobby said. And I’ll put the blame where it lies all I want, which is on that damn Mark. You changed after it hit your arm, Luce. You started quoting Amara, started doing things that weren’t you.”

“Would you blame me after my reeducation?” Raphael asked, raising an eyebrow. “I caused untold harm and they were all my actions-“

“It’s not the same,” Sam insisted hotly, and Dean took the opportunity.

“No, it’s not the same, because Raph didn’t have the ultimate darkness preying on his Grace and pouring into him, and I still don’t blame him for what he did because it wasn’t his fault. So how the hell would I ever blame you for giving Asmodeus and the others power?” What the hell would it take for Sam to realize that Asmodeus and the Apocalypse that wasn’t didn’t belong on his shoulders?

“Don’t you get it?” Sam exclaimed. His eyes flashed red with pain, and it flung Michael back to when Lucifer had come to him in a moment of clarity, begging for Michael to stop him. “I made the Princes of Hell, _I_ did that. I’m not just responsible for, for Asmodeus taking us and hurting Gabriel, I’m responsible for Azazel, too.”

Oh fuck. No, this was not happening. “Lucifer, _no_ -“

“I’m responsible for Mom dying, for you going to Hell,” Lucifer choked out, Grace dim and shamed. “Everyone that Azazel killed and turned, all of those moms and kids, that’s all because of _me_. Zachariah was telling the truth all along. How am I ever supposed to return to Heaven when I did something like that? How can _you_ ever forgive me for everything I’ve done to you?”

Michael didn’t get a chance to refute it before Lucifer rose suddenly and disappeared, flying awkwardly out to the yard. The wing wasn’t quite healed for it but he righted himself and then went deeper into the junkyard. He watched his little brother’s Grace, full of agony and guilt, and his Grace desperately wanted to reach out and console, to make it right, to assure his brother that all of this wasn’t his fault.

Before he could so much as gather his wings together, however, Gabriel stood and flew out after him. His wing didn’t seem to bother him as much as Lucifer’s had, and he followed Lucifer effortlessly.

Michael gathered his own wings but Bobby put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Let ‘em go,” Bobby said quietly. “Nothin’ you can say right now is gonna get through his skull. You could shout that it ain’t his fault, that you don’t blame him, and he won’t hear it.”

“You… _don’t_ blame him, right?” Jo asked hesitantly. “I mean, if Azazel wouldn’t have had the power to kill your mom…”

“What that yellow-eyed bastard did isn’t Lucifer’s fault,” Michael said firmly. “And it wasn’t Lucifer who made them Princes, not really. It was the Mark possessing him.”

“It wasn’t Lucifer who created them in the first place, either. It was Amara,” Raphael added. “All Lucifer did was give them power, power that Amara probably would’ve given them if she hadn’t been locked away. What they did with that power comes down to them.”

Michael wasn’t so sure about that: they’d been created by Amara which meant they’d probably been created a little twisted. Then there was the effect of Lucifer’s Grace messed up by the Mark that probably hadn’t helped.

But the one thing he was sure of was that this wasn’t Lucifer’s fault; this wasn’t Sam’s doing. And he was definitely sure that his little brother would castigate himself for it and think that Dean hated him, blamed him.

 _Any chance I could resurrect Zachariah, Raph?_ he asked.

_Not without cracking open the Empty. But I do share the sentiment._

“So, any chance I can get the cliffnotes without the self-flagellation?” Ellen asked with a raised eyebrow. “Y’know, the real version where it ain’t all because Sam was born, or Lucifer was created? Because I love your brother like he was my own but somebody oughta tell him he’s not Evil Incarnate.” She paused and snorted. “Even though he’s technically supposed to be the Devil. Only your brother could convince me that Lucifer isn’t the end of the world.”

“Something you’ll have to tell him yourself, because he won’t listen to me.” It wouldn’t stop Michael from trying, though. He glanced out and found Gabriel’s Grace side by side with Lucifer’s. They were a wing away but felt like worlds apart.

“They’ll be fine, Dean,” Jo told him. She wrinkled her nose. “Or, uh, Michael. What do I call you?”

He glanced at her and felt himself smirk in what he knew was pure Dean Winchester. “I’m both. They’re one and the same. You pick.”

Jo raised an eyebrow. “So, asshole fits too?”

He stuck his tongue out at her purely on principle and heard her giggle. Ellen rolled her eyes at the both of them and Bobby muttered something about “millennia-old child” but it was all for Dean’s benefit and he knew it. He knew it was meant to distract him from his two youngest brothers outside, one of them hurting and feeling so very alone, the other not much better. He appreciated their efforts, he really did.

But it didn’t change the fact that it was his kid out there, feeling like he wasn’t deserving of love. It couldn’t be more incorrect because he’d raised Sam, he’d raised _Lucifer_. That kid out there was completely his, the greatest gift that Father and Mom had given him twice over. And it was for that reason that he knew that Sam just wasn’t capable of being evil or wrong. He was one of the best people he knew, the inherent good in his pinky more than most held in their entire beings. Lucifer wasn’t capable of it, the brightest of all the angels he’d ever known. The Mark was responsible for it, the Darkness behind what had twisted and infected that light. He just had to convince Lucifer of what he knew so strongly.

The light of Lucifer’s Grace grew a little more. Gabriel’s Grace responded in kind, and Dean forced himself to turn to the others. Raphael, too, had his eyes cast outside, Grace bright blue in his eyes. Not the only big brother worried about the other two.

“What happens next?” Bobby asked, and Dean turned his attention back to the others in the room.

“Getting in touch with Cas. Then luring Asmodeus into a trap where I deal with him.”

“Violently,” Jo offered, and Dean grinned.

“Hopefully, yeah.”

“A change-up of the spell you used for Crowley might work,” Bobby said, and then they were off, exchanging ideas and working on the next steps. And if Dean glanced outside, Grace seeking out the Grace of his little brothers, well, sue him. He was allowed.

  


He stumbled, hitting the ground hard and then walking when his wing would no longer support him. He felt twisted up inside as he sought the refuge of the old and rusted cars. He wasn’t Sam, he wasn’t Lucifer, he was just a ball of failure, of evil, of _wrong_ -

A bundle of Grace slammed into him and he hit the ground, glaring up at the newcomer. Gabriel glared back at him. _Knock it off,_ he could all but hear through the Grace, and it was so reminiscent of the voice that he missed that Sam’s eyes burned.

“It’s not like I’m wrong,” he snapped. “Asmodeus is because of me, Azazel is because of me. I know you heard Asmodeus as well as I did.”

Gabriel just flicked him upside the head with part of his wing. His face spoke volumes about how stupid he thought Sam was being. It was the lack of voice that allowed Sam to pull the painful words out. “You can’t even _talk_ because of me, Gabe! I did that!”

 _HE did that,_ Gabriel shot back, nostrils flared in rage. _Don’t you even-_

“But it’s because of me giving him those powers that he was even able to capture you,” Sam insisted. “I did that. All those years ago. I was stupid and proud and I took the Mark on when I knew it was meant for Michael. Michael could’ve handled it. Instead, I took it, gave Amara’s angel wannabes more power than they deserved, and set Hell up for a breeding ground of demons.”

It was enough to make him choke, to think that it was because of him that Azazel had lured Mary Winchester into a trap, then killed her. Set John Winchester up to take his soul, helped take Dean’s, too. And filled Sam up with demon blood from the very start. It was only fair, he figured.

_Leave my big brother alone or I swear I’ll do something you won’t like, Sam._

“Then stay out of my head,” Sam muttered. He pulled himself over and sat, back against what looked like an old Buick. Gabriel pursed his lips but sat down beside him. Gabriel’s Grace reached out and brushed against Sam’s, a silent, _I’m here,_ that he didn’t need to hear. He knew it was there.

It made the offer of Grace that much harder to take, honestly. Because Gabriel shouldn’t be so willing to forgive him. Neither should Michael or Raphael, yet he could feel both of their Graces in the house, silently hovering, waiting to reach out if they needed to. His stomach churned.

There was no reason for any of them to follow him like he was worth anything, like he hadn’t brought about some of the worst evils they’d ever faced. And yet he knew that Gabriel would let it go, that Michael would and Raphael would. Part of him desperately wanted them to forgive him and keep him.

Part of him felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because he couldn’t possibly be forgiven for all the pain and agony he’d caused.

_What are you even on about-_

“You can’t tell me that this isn’t on me,” Sam said. “You just, you just _can’t_ , Gabriel.”

 _Michael doesn’t think so_.

“Yeah, well, this coming from the guy who wouldn’t speak to me for weeks because I got possessed by a spirit in a mental asylum and shot him full of rock salt.” An image that still haunted his dreams from time to time, except instead of rock salt hitting Dean square in the chest, it was lead.

_He learned. He’s grown. So have you. So have I._

Sam heard the regret in the Grace, felt the remorse and saw glimmers of Tuesdays that wouldn’t end. “I’m not mad at you about that,” Sam told him softly. “I told you that. I know what you were trying to do.”

Gabriel gave him a look. _But you won’t forgive yourself? Let US forgive you?_

“You weren’t trying to do it with malevolence in mind,” Sam said bitterly. “I _wanted_ to spite Heaven and humanity. I wanted to burn it all to the ground.”

_And then you got better. It’s no big._

Despite himself, Sam snorted out a laugh. “I miss your voice,” he murmured. Gabriel leaned against him, head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, little one.”

“You should be.”

Sam was on his feet in an instant, standing in front of Gabriel. Asmodeus just brushed dust off of his arms as he stood in the empty row between cars, looking nonplussed. “If it weren’t for you, he’d be a talkin’ fool.”

Behind Sam, Gabriel’s Grace was flaring bright with fear and the urge to run run _run_. “ _How_ ,” Sam growled. There were wards-

 _Had_ been wards. They felt like smoking ruins now when he ran his Grace against the closest one, and just the act of reaching out made him feel like he’d done a lap around the yard.

“Well, when you’re an invited guest, it ain’t hard to get inside,” Asmodeus told him. “’Course, I think it was _your_ invite originally, but you’ve never been stingy with sharing with me before. I didn’t think you’d mind. And we weren’t done talking.”

Lucifer’s Grace, the Grace he’d ingested. Somehow, it had been enough to get him through the anti-demon wards, long enough to blow them apart. Even now, he could see the Grace shining in the Prince’s eyes.

“Gabriel, go,” Lucifer ordered, but Gabriel’s Grace only edged closer to him. “ _Gabe_!”

“Nah, let ‘im stay,” Asmodeus said with a grin. “He liked being an audience before. Got a mite bit excited but I’m sure that can be forgiven. Just needs more…practice.” He flipped a blade around in his fingers, and Lucifer’s memory shot him back to that dark and silent room, pinned on the wall as Asmodeus pulled Grace out of him.

He tried to gather his Grace to pull forth his blade but his already taxed Grace was sluggish to respond. Asmodeus’s grin only broadened. “You weren’t meant to be an angel, Lucifer. You were meant to lead Hell. Angels are _weak_ ,” he spat, glaring at Gabriel. “But you showed me that there were better things than being an angel. You gave me the chance to be greater. I wouldn’t be standin’ here if it weren’t for you and your vision.”

Blade, he needed his blade, because Asmodeus was getting closer and Gabriel was frozen behind him. But Lucifer couldn’t move either, Asmodeus’s words cutting through him like the blade he kept twirling in his fingers. “That wasn’t me,” he tried to get out but his voice shook against his will.

“Pretty sure it was,” Asmodeus told him. “Your Grace fillin’ me up, making me more than the bottom dweller I was. You gave me a purpose, Lucifer. For that, I am _so_ grateful. And I’m here to finish what you started.”

Lucifer put everything he had into his Grace and forced it to give him his blade. The amount of effort it took made him gasp and realize just how much Grace that Asmodeus had taken.

Asmodeus just tutted, his eyes glowing with the Grace that Lucifer so desperately needed. “Might’ve been a match for me way back in the day. But you weren’t a match for me when I caught you. You really think you can take me on, _boy_?”

Suddenly something landed between them, six wings flared and dangerous and enough to actually make Asmodeus take two steps backwards. The Grace that flew out, blanketing Lucifer and Gabriel while burning with pure _rage_ at Asmodeus, shone so brightly that Lucifer could barely see the being inside of it.

But the voice that came thundering out to rattle the glass in the junk cars left him absolutely certain about who’d come to stand between him and Asmodeus.

“ ** _How about taking me on, you fucking asshole?_** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all have been SO patient and waiting for this moment...


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait - I hope this makes up for it!

It was gratifying to watch Asmodeus actually shrink back in the wake of Michael’s fury. The plaid shirt that Dean wore flapped in the breeze that his wings created and rustled the tips of his blonde hair. His stance, legs planted firmly against the ground, fists balled up tight and ready to do damage, was one that Sam had seen a million and one times when Dean had stood between him and bullies, demons, spirits, anything that threatened him. It was usually one of the last things that those things saw.

Lucifer really, _really_ hoped this was one of the last things that Asmodeus saw.

“Michael,” Asmodeus breathed. He still looked wary, and with good reason. Michael looked absolutely livid. “It’s, ah, about time we actually met face to face like gentlemen, isn’t that right?”

“Except you’re as far from a gentleman as you can get,” Michael seethed. “You’re a black stain in a cheap suit.”

Asmodeus’s eyes flared red in anger, and Lucifer wasn’t sure if it was his Prince nature coming through, or Lucifer’s stolen Grace. It made Lucifer tense, fingers tight around his blade. If he had to put it to use, he wasn’t sure his Grace could handle it, but damn if he wouldn’t try. For Michael, he’d always try.

Michael seemed to sense his plans. “Lucifer, take Gabriel back to the house,” he ordered. When Lucifer stayed put, Michael glanced back briefly, eyes vivid green and angry. “ ** _Now_**.”

Lucifer glared back. “No. I’m not leaving you alone with him.” Behind him, Gabriel’s Grace suddenly surged forward, just as determined as Lucifer, even though he could feel the trace edges of fear that remained. Pretty much how Lucifer felt.

“Hidin’ behind your brother’s skirts ain’t gonna change what happens to you,” Asmodeus said. “But it might change what I do to him.”

“I think you’ll find yourself outnumbered,” Raphael’s voice called, and Lucifer glanced behind Asmodeus. Raphael’s eyes were a vivid blue and just as furious as Michael’s, and his stance was just as intimidating.

Asmodeus didn’t even look nervous, the bastard. “Right shame you left all those humans by themselves, not a single archangel to defend ‘em,” he said like he didn’t have a care in the world. The blade kept spinning between his fingers.

Lucifer froze and Gabriel made a soft, pained sound behind him. Michael didn’t so much as flinch, and neither did Raphael. “Too bad ‘all those humans’ were left surrounded by four angels, more than ready to deal with them,” Michael said, and he sounded smug. Asmodeus stilled, the blade finally stopping in his hands.

Castiel, it had to be. Good. Still, if Asmodeus was ruler of Hell, he had as many demons at his call as he wanted. That meant those were bad odds, especially since Asmodeus had torn all the wards to Hell and back.

The wards _._ Michael needed to know about the wards. _Michael,_ Lucifer began, but his Grace felt as if it were gasping for air after that one word. Gabriel actually came up behind him, physically holding him up as he stumbled.

Raphael took an aborted step forward, worry in his eyes as he watched Lucifer, and Michael _snarled_. “I think you and I are long overdue a chat,” he spat at Asmodeus. “You took something you had no right to take.”

“The brothers or the Grace?” Asmodeus drawled. “Because as it so happens, I intend on takin’ both again. ‘Cept this time, I think I’ll nibble on the youngest one too. Lucifer looks a mite bit…empty.”

He shot forward in an instant, thin knife followed by a longer sword that appeared in his other hand, but Michael had his blade up and fended off the first blow with a quick parry. Raphael came up behind Asmodeus, blade moving to sink into flesh, but Asmodeus was too quick. Another parry, another block. Somehow, Asmodeus was managing to keep two archangels at bay.

It was his Grace, Lucifer suddenly realized. This is what it would look like if the two of them had to fight Lucifer. Because Michael and Raphael would fight with precision and dexterity, but Asmodeus-

Asmodeus would cheat and fight dirty. And Lucifer needed the part of his brother who would do the same.

“ _Deani_ ” he shouted, just as Asmodeus’s thin blade turned into a gun. Michael instantly dropped and kicked the legs out from underneath the demon, then followed it up with swing to the bottom of Asmodeus’s jaw on the way down. The demon spun out of it as best he could, but when he looked up, glaring with red eyes, one very pissed-off Dean Winchester was waiting for him.

“What’s the matter, asshole? Fighting dirty too dirty for you?” Dean taunted. Asmodeus snarled and lunged forward. Dean met him easily, taking him on with little finesse but a hell of a punch that clipped the demon’s chin and allowed him to avoid the butt of the gun that came out towards him. Raphael came in again and the fight continued.

Lucifer tightened his fingers around his blade. He needed to get in there and help. He needed to fly back to the house and help Castiel. But no matter what he should be doing, he wasn’t doing any of them, instead frozen, half leaning into Gabriel, half shielding him. Gabriel was just as torn, his Grace feeling as if it needed to move and do _something_ but he couldn’t, either. They stayed together, watching as their brothers fought with everything they had to keep Asmodeus at bay.

A swing from Dean sent Asmodeus skittering back with a curse, blood trailing down the demon's face. Raphael immediately pressed his advantage and swung his blade around, cutting into the suit and Asmodeus’s side. In an instant Asmodeus flung his arm out and sent Raphael flying with what Lucifer knew was _his_ Grace. Raphael landed against a pile of cars, stunned. Already he was trying to get back on his feet, but it would take a minute.

Dean brought his blade up towards Asmodeus’s head but then ducked, spun, and lifted his leg an instant later, catching Asmodeus in the chest. Asmodeus grabbed his ankle at the last minute and sent Dean sprawling to the ground. “Seems your little brother’s Grace is too much for you,” Asmodeus told him, gun aimed down.

The gun went flying a minute later, and Sam stood between him and his downed brother, panting. His Grace felt weak, his soul the strongest part of him now, and all that mattered was that the blade was still in his hands. “Back off,” Sam warned.

Asmodeus slowly began to smirk. “Make me,” he countered, and his swung his blade up so fast that Sam could barely dodge it. He dodged the next swing, nearly tripping over Dean’s legs as his brother fought to get up, and he made the mistake of bringing his blade up to defend against another strike. The blade went flying, his Grace crying out at the loss, and Sam fell back against his brother with a pained gasp. They stumbled, nearly hitting the ground again.

Asmodeus began to laugh. “I told you, angels are weak,” he said. “But that Grace is good for somethin’. I got better plans than your original idea, plans that are gonna put your ideas to shame.”

“What, make us kill each other?” Dean snapped, keeping Sam upright as best he could. “I didn’t think you’d stoop to Heaven’s level.”

Asmodeus snorted. “And waste all that pretty Grace? Not a chance. All I need is a little bit more juice than I had, and now I’ve got four archangels to pull from. What I could do with four of you-“

He choked suddenly, smile falling in an instant. Sam stared at the blood pouring over his white suit, staining it red, as his face flickered once, twice, three times, before he began to scream. A dark cloud surged within him and around him, sparking like lightning, burning up until suddenly, it was gone. The light faded from his eyes, and he fell to the ground. Sam immediately raised his eyes from the dead demon to the figure holding the bloody blade.

There, standing behind Asmodeus, was Gabriel, blade extended. He pulled it back to his side and gave a sideways grin. “Hey bros,” he said hoarsely, voice scratchy from disuse.

Sam stared and could all but feel Dean’s jaw drop. The next instant, Sam had Gabriel in his arms, held tight and with clenched fingers. Gabriel clutched back just as hard. “Gabriel,” Sam breathed. “ _Gabriel_.”

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun,” Gabriel said roughly. Then, in a whisper, “I couldn’t let him hurt you again. Not while I had breath to do something about it this time. Not again, Samshine.”

It was the best thing that Sam had possibly ever heard in his life. Suddenly Dean was there, pulling them both into his embrace, and a minute later, they were cushioned from the other side by Raphael. “You okay?” Sam asked as they pulled back.

“Far better now,” Raphael said. “As I’m sure Michael can agree with.”

“Way better,” Dean said. He turned and Sam knew he was looking at Asmodeus’s corpse. “Got a few bullets I wouldn’t mind losing to some target practice, but otherwise yeah, worlds better. When I saw your Graces freak out and the wards drop…”

“We’re here,” Sam promised. “Thanks to you two. We’re here.”

Dean didn’t say anything to that, but he didn’t have to. His embrace spoke volumes all on its own, and Sam just shut his eyes and held on to his brothers.

He’d think later. Right now, he just really needed a hug. And probably some alcohol in a bit. But definitely a hug, because honestly, it was probably the only thing holding him upright.

“Yeah, let’s get you inside,” Dean said, and together the group headed for the house.

Getting Sam back to the house was harder than Dean had anticipated. The kid was all but slumped against the three of them, Grace so low that he swore Sam’s wings flickered. _He needs a donation, Michael, now,_ Raphael shot at him, panic growing a little in his own Grace. Gabriel glanced at Michael, worried but determined with a firm nod.

Sam didn’t even acknowledge the message from Raphael, which only worried Dean all the more. “It’s better if he’s conscious,” Raphael said out loud.

“I can do it,” Gabriel said, voice still like a croak, but Dean shook his head.

“You need to rest up too. My Grace isn’t taxed.” Though it had taken far more than he’d anticipated to deal with Asmodeus. In a way, he’d been fighting Lucifer, with as much Grace as the demon had taken. Fucking _bastard_.

Between the three of them they got Sam seated on the ground where he almost fell forward. His eyes were fighting to keep focused, and his Grace desperately needed help, now. “Luce, look at me,” he ordered, pulling Michael to the forefront, and Lucifer slowly raised his head. He caught Lucifer’s hand in his and brought his Grace forward. “Hold on to me, okay?” he said.

His Grace nudged at Lucifer’s, trying to make contact. It took a minute but Lucifer tightened his grasp on Michael’s physical hand, then reached out with his fluttering Grace to hold on to Michael’s. Michael didn’t think, just _pushed_ , his Grace moving from him to Lucifer. Lucifer gasped as the Grace wrapped around his own, and Michael watched as his eyes flared. Encouraged, Michael did it again, and this time there was color in Lucifer’s face and a spark in his eyes. If only it were so easy to donate blood; there were at least a dozen times that ran through his head where a blood donation this simple would’ve kept them out of the hospital and farther from the brink of death.

He would’ve done it a third time except Raphael put a hand on theirs. “Easy, Michael,” Raphael warned. “Lucifer has enough to help tether him to Heaven. His Grace will restore on its own now.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Lucifer agreed. He looked a million times better, and it was a Sam smile that greeted him.

“I think you’re the one that needs that warning,” Dean said, glaring at him. “You know how much Grace it took for you to pull that blade out?” _Too much,_ his brain helpfully supplied.

Sam just narrowed his gaze. “Like I was going to leave you when I could defend you.”

“It would’ve been the last of your Grace, Samshine,” Gabriel told him. “You would’ve Fallen. Again. Nobody wants that.”

Sam looked at him like he was made of magic, and Dean felt much the same way. Gabriel was talking, with the same sass and snark that Dean knew was such an innate part of him. It was more than Dean could’ve asked for.

And as much as he’d wanted to be the one to pin Asmodeus with his blade, he couldn’t deny that out of all of them, Sam and Gabriel had deserved it far more than he had.

They helped Sam to his feet and he didn’t so much as wobble. Still exhausted, clearly, but alive.

It was more than he’d expected when he’d realized who had gotten into the junkyard. The fear that had slammed into him, the fury that he had dared to come into the yard for his little brothers, calling for Castiel even as he’d flown across the yard with a speed he hadn’t known he possessed-

A hand rested on his shoulder. _Thanks for that, Michael, by the way,_ Sam told him. It felt like a miracle to hear Lucifer’s Grace singing to his, the prayer nowhere near as weak as it had been before when they’d faced off against Asmodeus.

The porch was full of people when they came back to the front of the house. Bodies were everywhere, and Dean realized he could hear a faint prayer of blessing falling from Ezekiel’s lips. Jo and Ellen looked bewildered by it, and it struck him that it was in Enochian.

Sometimes, the angel stuff came easy. And sometimes he stunned even himself with what he could now do.

“All handled here,” Castiel said in grim satisfaction. “They stood no match for us.”

“Didn’t figure they would, Cassie,” Gabriel said. Castiel’s eyes widened, and then he was down the stairs, hurrying over to wrap Gabriel in his arms. Gabriel hugged him back, then snorted in amusement when Castiel swung his grasp from Gabriel to Sam. Sam blinked, then wrapped his arms around Castiel, a small smile on his face.

Good. Let the kid know how much he was loved. Because Dean was going to make sure that his little brother never took off again with the wrong impression. For all his smarts, his little brother could be damned stupid, too.

“You boys all right?” Bobby asked.

“Got a body for you to burn,” Dean said. Bobby’s smirk was nothing short of dangerous, as was Castiel’s. Yeah, all right, it felt damn good to have Asmodeus taken care of. Even if the demon had raised more questions than answers…

Okay, not dealing with that. Not now. “Sam needs to get inside,” he said, and Jo hurried down the stairs, Ellen right behind her. Between the group of them they managed to flank and half-carry Sam up the stairs, something that clearly amused Sam as he seemed to walk up just fine on his own. Still, by the time they got him inside and seated on the sofa, he’d lost some of the color in his face, and he was working on panting as quietly as possible.

The silence that filled the room felt a little awkward. Ezekiel and Sidria stood beside Castiel and Anael, who Dean was surprised to see. He hadn’t figured that Raphael could get so many angels down here so fast, but given that his adopted sister and parents were alive, well, he wasn’t complaining.

Sam glanced up at him, then away, and Dean realized they were all waiting on him. Given how they’d flown out of there as fast as they could, he figured that some sort of explanation beyond ‘dead asshole needs further dead-ing’ was needed. And Sam was clearly expecting to get chewed out. There was something off about his Grace, and Dean realized with a start that somewhere between coming inside and sitting down, Sam had closed himself off again and blocked them out. _Lucifer,_ he called, but Sam just battened down the hatches even more. 

Raphael and Gabriel both flinched, as did Dean. That just… _hurt_. Physically stung deep down inside of him to have Lucifer cut off from him like that.

Before he could say anything, though, Jo cleared her throat almost theatrically loud. “Lasagna,” she said definitively.

Dean blinked. “Lasagna?” Sam asked.

“We have lasagna,” she said. “Gabriel conjured it up.”

“Damn good lasagna too,” Gabriel offered, making Jo jump a little. First time she’d heard his voice, Dean realized, and when Jo looked at Gabriel, the angel winked at her. Her cheeks went a little red but she grinned.

“Damn good lasagna. Which we’re going to go eat. We’ll save you a piece.” She turned and headed for the kitchen, clearly giving them all space and time to work things out. Ellen just shook her head and followed after her, as did Bobby, who muttered something about the apple not falling far from the tree. Gabriel snorted and even Sam’s lips turned up.

Castiel glanced at Ezekiel, who nodded after a moment. "I'll stay here," Castiel said. "Ezekiel?"

“I think we’re better off looking over the wards,” Ezekiel said. “I have no need for food, but would feel a lot more at ease if I knew the wards were re-established and could protect you and the other archangels.” He gave a nod and a smile towards Sam, who seemed surprised by the acknowledgement, probably more surprised by the kindness.

In the midst of it, though, Dean wasn’t going to forget that Bobby’s place was no longer the safest place to go. “Do _not_ go by yourselves,” he warned, letting Michael into his voice. “I can’t guarantee that whatever wards are left will be enough to keep you safe.”

“We’ll stay together,” Ezekiel promised. “At the first hint of anything, I’ll tell you. You can better protect everyone that way, too.”

Yeah, Zeke was a good one for captain. “I’m here if you need protecting, too,” Dean pointed out, and Ezekiel gave a quick grin before stepping away.

Sidria turned to follow Ezekiel, then paused. Before Dean could barely blink, she’d flown over to Sam and wrapped her arms around him. Sam froze, eyes wide. Well, unexpected.

Her voice, though soft, was easy to hear. “I’m glad you’re you again,” she said. “I…missed you.” She pulled away, but not before he could see that her cheeks had gone a dull shade of pink. Oh. _Oh_. Dean had forgotten how some of the younger angels had held them to hero status, falling all over themselves whenever Michael and Lucifer had come through. Gabriel had had his own fan club that he’d been both embarrassed and proud of at the same time. Apparently Sidria had been one of Lucifer’s admirers.

Anael glanced back at Sam too after Sidria pulled away. Her gaze, however, wasn’t filled with awe but something that Dean would’ve classified as uneasy. “Yes,” she said. “It’s good to see you, Lucifer.”

Sam’s face twisted, despondent. “You too, Anael,” he said quietly.

In a flash the three angels were gone, taking wing to the first ward. Dean felt anger blossom at the response from Anael. She was supposed to have been a supporter for Lucifer, one that Raphael trusted, but if she felt that way about his little brother then-

“Dean, no,” Sam said wearily. “It’s not, not that. That’s not the reason.”

“Then why did she look at you like you were scum on the bottom of her shoe?” Dean asked, fists clenching.

Sam pursed his lips. “Her being a supporter of me has _never_ been the issue.”

It took a minute for what he was saying to sink in, but when it did, it took his anger with it. “She wanted to go with you?” Dean asked, surprised. “Before the Cage?”

“Yeah. She, uh. She was irritated with the way we had to follow rules when Father was rarely around to answer questions. And she thought humanity was a lost cause.”

“She’s changed her tune.”

“I encouraged her to go talk to Raphael, help him out. I guess it must’ve done some good.” Sam winced and looked away. “I wish I could say I did it because I wanted to keep her safe but honestly, she was annoying me. I wanted her to go elsewhere.”

More hidden jewels than Dean had anticipated were being coughed up in the conversation. The last thing he wanted was Sam hurting, but the only way he was going to get through to his brother was to get past all the crap he was surrounding himself with.

He glanced over at Gabriel and Raphael, who were pointedly still standing there, refusing to leave. Castiel had already disappeared into the kitchen from the looks of it, but he doubted his brothers would be harder to disperse. “Don’t even bother,” Raphael said, and while the tone was joined with a sweet smile, there was steel in his brother’s eyes. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Dean didn't blame him. “We have our own things we’d like to say.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What with all the other updates I did today, I'm sure y'all have been eagerly awaiting THIS particularly update, and it didn't seem fair to update other fics without this one, too. Hope you enjoy!

Sam winced again at the sharper words and tone from Raphael. “Can you _not_ keep beating on yourself like that?” Gabriel exclaimed. “It’s like a hammer in my head every time you do it, I swear. Worse than the slap in the face that is your blocking us out, and speaking of that-“

Sam’s Grace _was_ still blocked, now that Dean reached out to see for himself. An instant later, Sam tensed in a way that Dean was getting too familiar with, and Dean stepped in front of him. “I will pin your wings if I have to,” he threatened. “That’s twice now you’ve flown off because you thought you were ‘wrong’ or ‘evil’ and I’m not letting you go off again thinking any of that bullshit.” Sam began to answer, but Dean cut him off. “Nope, you get to listen now. Because so help me, if I hear you beat on my little brother again, you won’t like what I do.”

“Isn’t that sort of the antithesis to your whole point?” Sam muttered. His gaze went everywhere except Dean.

Dean pursed his lips. This wasn’t going to get them anywhere. “Sammy, c’mon,” he cajoled gently, because Lucifer had always responded better to a softer touch, and Sam hadn’t changed in that regard. Even as Dean watched, Sam’s shoulders came down a little. It was a start.

“Samshine, I’ve spent the last who knows how many days wishing I could talk,” Gabriel said quietly. It was such a relief to hear Gabriel because he _was_ talking. It caught Dean off guard for a moment, and it seemed to do the same to Sam. “You said you were there for me-“

“And I am-“

“Then _talk_. Because you’re wired and wound up tighter than a sub lookin’ to let off a lot of tension the fun way.”

“How does a submarine let off tension?” Raphael asked, bewildered, and Dean couldn’t help the snort when Gabriel helpfully sent along an image to explain which type of sub he’d meant. “Oh. _Oh_. Never, um, mind.”

Sam’s own lips had turned up at the exchange, fondness leaking out of his otherwise sealed-up Grace. Dean took the opportunity to sit down next to his little brother. He frowned for a minute, trying to figure out how to do it, then sent his Grace over to brush in a rhythmic fashion against the block that Lucifer had tossed up. Sam blinked, frowning, then actually sputtered a laugh. “Did you just…shave and a haircut me?” he asked.

“Hey, whatever works,” Dean said. He nudged Sam with his shoulder. “C’mon, Sammy. Let us in.”

Sam’s smile fell and he glanced up at Gabriel and Raphael. “I just…I never wanted you to see this,” he admitted. “What I did. The memory, I just…didn’t.”

“We can handle it,” Raphael assured him. “Whatever the Mark made you do, we understand.”

“You don’t,” Sam said, but in an instant the block disappeared and Dean found himself poured into what looked like a memory.

_The four half-beings stand, mockeries of wings hanging on their backs. They look more like twigs and bare bones, something black and sticky between them like tar. The beings themselves look small, huddled and full of so much blackness they’re hard to see against the landscape. The dark mountains make the perfect backdrop and the storm brewing in the distance offers flashes of light. The Earth is still young and raw, humanity even more so._

_Lucifer rises before them, eyes a dark blood-red, wings bright and piercing. The beings cower. “Please, there’s no need for that,” Lucifer says, voice silky smooth and so wrong. On his arm, the Mark stands out, vibrant and wrong. “I promised you a place at my side, and the time has come.”_

_“Like we can trust an angel,” one of the beings says. “I wouldn’t trust myself and I_ am _an angel.”_

_“You’re nothing close to an angel,” Lucifer tells him, then smirks, a cruel smirk that doesn’t look right on his face. “But you will be. After I am done, you will stand the way you should have been. Perfect beings to offset God’s perfect archangels.” The last sentence echoes and the Mark pulses, like the words come from somewhere else._

_In an instant Lucifer is in front of them, and his arm reaches out. Black lines flare out from the Mark and up his arm, into his neck, and an instant later, his red eyes go black. The power surge that shoots out of his arm hits the four beings and makes them scream. He does nothing except continue to pour out blackened Grace. They soak it in and fall to the ground. Finally, their screams stop._

_Their wings fold up behind them, the bones disappearing into inky darkness that flows behind them like a shroud. When they rise, their eyes are shades of yellow, all of them dirty, each one tinged with black. They no longer huddle but stand tall and strong, and their smiles are filled with sharp teeth._

_Lucifer stumbles back, and the Mark fades out. The black disappears from his eyes, and for a moment, his red eyes lighten to the warm red of a sunset. He blinks and blinks again, staring at the figures as if he doesn’t recognize them._

_“What are our first orders?” the first one says. His yellow eyes are more vivid than the others. “Shall we take Hell for our own? All of those souls just waiting to be used.”_

_“We do what Lucifer wants, Azazel,” another says. “Together we can manage Hell and take on the archangels. We’re more than a match for them now.”_

_“Tell us, Lucifer,” another says. “We’re here for you.”_

_“Yes,” says the last one. “Dagon and I are here for you.”_

_“I…” Lucifer seems shaken. Fear and anger are warring inside of him and fear will be the victor. “I have things I need to do. Elsewhere. I’ll be back.”_

_“We’ll head for Hell, then,” says the first one. He smirks and Lucifer feels disgust. “You and I will make a great team. I’ve got wonderful ideas bursting in my head for you.”_

_“He doesn’t need any, Azazel. He’s his own ideas, and I think they’re marvelous.”_

_The four make their way down the mountain. Lucifer looks to the sky, where the storm is tinged in a bloody sunset. The lightning looks pink and angry. “Michael,” he whispers. “Oh Michael, what have I done? Where are you?”_

_He takes off, heading for Heaven._

“I’m here,” Dean said. He found himself back on the sofa, answering without thinking, but that terrified voice of his little brother was impossible to ignore. He glanced at Sam and felt his heart tear a little in his chest. Sam looked…

Fear filled his face, but guilt and shame reddened his cheeks and pulled tears to his eyes. He hunched in on himself, and his gaze was centered on his hands in his lap, fingers pulling at each other. His lip actually bled from his biting on it so much, and his Grace seemed to shake, waiting for whatever would come his way.

It was the storm in the memory he’d seen that gave Dean his next words. “I remember that storm,” he said. “You’d gone missing and I couldn’t find you. I worried that the storm had caught you up, and then you’d shown up, safe and sound. Do you remember what you told me?”

Because Michael did. His little brother, flying up so fast he thought they’d collide, the fear on Lucifer’s face. _Help me, Michael,_ Lucifer had begged. _I’m becoming something I don’t want to be. I’ll hurt someone._

_What do you want me to do, little brother?_

_Help me. I don’t know what to do anymore, Michael. I’m hurting others. And I fear I will hurt you._

“It was too little, too late,” Sam said wretchedly. He reached up and buried his fingers in his hair, pulling at the dark strands. Dean immediately grabbed his wrists to stop him and Sam jerked out of his reach. “I’d already given them the power they needed. I had a plan and I’d already put it into motion.”

“Amara’s plan,” Dean said firmly. Sam glared and stood, deliberately avoiding Gabriel and Raphael. Gabriel crossed his arms and scowled, frustration coming through loud and clear. “That was Amara’s plan. That line about ‘perfect archangels’ was one she used to spit at us, remember? That was the Mark, Sam, not you.

“And another thing,” he added, “you told me that the Mark wasn’t to blame, that you were doing evil things all on your own, right?”

Sam swallowed hard. “Well?” Dean persisted, and suddenly Sam’s wings flared out in a defensive position, waiting to take flight and run. His one wing looked to be protesting the use, and his Grace trembled, but Dean could see the rest of him saying _go go go._

Dean’s own wings suddenly tensed, waiting to fly after him if need be. “Dammit Sammy, _listen to me_ ,” he yelled.

“Why? You won’t listen to what I’m saying! You’re so determined to prove me to be the good guy no matter what, to, to absolve me of what I did wrong-“

“That’s because it wasn’t really you-!”

“Why won’t you _hate me_?” Sam suddenly shouted. The nearby glass began to sing as his True Voice edged out. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop and, and you won’t let it, and what am I supposed to _do_?!”

In an instant Dean flew in front of him, eyes bright green and vivid with his Grace, and before Sam could so much as get his wings to work, Dean caught hold of him by the front of his shirt and pulled him in. Wrapped two arms and six wings around him. Held him tight. All but cradled him.

A sound like a stifled sob filled the air. Dean swallowed hard and pushed the words out. “I screwed up, too.”  
“Not like this,” Sam choked out. “Not like I did. The reason you went to Hell, the reason Mom died, this is all on me. I, I deserved-”

“You thought that the voicemail Zachariah set up was real,” Dean continued. “You keep waiting for me to hate you, to hurt you. You weren’t at all surprised when you woke up in the panic room, just so damn resigned, and that’s on me.”

“Dean-“

“You came to me,” Dean told him whisper-soft in his ear. His voice sounded rough to his own ears. “You begged me to stop you, to help you, and I realized that it was the first time that I’d seen your Grace so bright in a long time. Because I was finally seeing you, not that Mark. The little brother who’d gotten buried underneath.”

Dean pushed them apart enough to catch Sam’s face between his hands. Sam’s eyes were red-rimmed and shining, and Dean didn’t figure he looked any better. “That’s how I know it wasn’t you,” Dean managed to get out. “Because the first thing you did when you had a minute to breathe, a minute to be _you_ , and you came to me, asking for help so you wouldn’t hurt anyone. That’s what my little brother would do.”

“Michael,” Lucifer whispered. His Grace tentatively reached out for Michael’s, and it was met without any hesitation.

“There’s no other shoe, Lucifer. And I couldn’t hate you if I tried. That prophecy about me killing you is so much crap I don’t even know where to start. Just you and me, side by side, taking on the world together. That’s the only future I see.”

A brush of Grace against them and Gabriel was there, worming his way into the embrace. “Your wings are as big a brute as you are,” he said and Michael choked out a laugh and hauled him in. Gabriel didn’t even ask, just latched on to the front of Lucifer’s shirt and held on tight, and Lucifer pulled him in with a single arm.

Then another Grace came in beside him, a warm and powerful presence beneath Michael’s wings. “His wings are perfectly fine, Gabriel,” Raphael told him. “You’re just small.”

“That’s rude,” Gabriel said, voice still cracked a little from disuse. “And you’re wearing heels which is cheating.”

“You could wear heels if you so desired,” Castiel noted. Michael glanced over at where the angel stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching the brothers with a smile. “But you would still be smaller than the rest of us.”

“Who taught the kid sass? Please say it wasn’t me,” Gabriel said, and Michael felt Lucifer pull away to bury his face in his hands. His brother’s Grace felt overwhelmed, Sam’s soul caught in the turmoil. Too many emotions, joy and giddiness mixing with guilt and shame and a heavy dose of heartache wrapped in the love of his brothers.

_We’re here, little brother,_ Michael sent, strong where Lucifer could barely stand. His little brother was still recovering after weeks of torture, and his Grace had needed two donations in a matter of days. As much as Michael wanted to keep talking to him and get him set straight for good, he wasn’t anywhere strong enough to handle that conversation yet. His emotions flying everywhere was proof of that.

_You will heal, bright one,_ Raphael told him. _Both of you. Be gentle with yourself. We can breathe again. At least, for a bit. And Michael and I will fight to the bitter end to ensure you and Gabriel have peace._

Damn straight they would. Asmodeus had learned that the hard way. So would anyone else who tried to mess with his little brothers. Because if Asmodeus was to be believed…

He’d been focused on Lucifer’s plan and then stealing their Graces for his personal high. He hadn’t wanted them to kill each other like the prophecy said.

He wasn’t the one Zachariah had teamed up with.

The thought that someone else was out there and working against them just made him hold on to Lucifer all the more. He’d be damned before he lost his little brother again. And he’d prove that to his brother, no matter what it took.

For the first time since he’d woken up in that horrific panic room, he didn’t feel caged or wrong. He felt like…

Like Dean’s little brother. Like Michael’s little brother.

And two additional presences stood around him, wrapping him up safely. He clutched at Gabriel and his little brother went willingly, holding on just as tight. For now, all he could do was lean into Michael and breathe. He wasn’t being thrown around or pushed out like he deserved. He’d take what he could get.

He didn’t deserve their affection or approval.

He wanted both.

A familiar callused hand tugged him forward until he could bury his face in his brother’s neck. He’d spent a lot of his days like this as a kid, and a few times as a teen when he’d been bullied or found himself heartbroken. It grounded him, gave him space to breathe. Even when Raphael and Gabriel left them to join Castiel and the others in the kitchen, Michael stayed strong, holding him upright. His Grace trembled with the amount of emotions he kept feeling.

Then it trembled for a whole other reason and his legs gave out. “Woah, woah, _woah_ ,” Dean said, panicked, and suddenly the room was filled with people. Raphael caught him on one side while Bobby got the other, and with Dean in front, they managed to get him back to the sofa.

“Too much,” Raphael murmured. “Michael, it’s too much for him. His Grace isn’t rebounding right.”

“What do you want me to do?” Dean asked helplessly. “The donations don’t seem like they’re working!”

“Even blood donations only work so well for so long,” Bobby said. He pulled his ballcap off to rub at his forehead. “Too many different donors just messes a body up. You both donated to him earlier, and then again after whatever the hell happened out there, which I still don’t know about other than my wards are blown and there’s a dead demon to deal with-“

Yeah, they’d been too busy dealing with Sam emotionally collapsing to properly fill them in. He felt Dean’s Grace brush his hard enough to register as a smack upside the head. _Stop it_. Sam shut his eyes against the spinning room and sighed.

He just felt…empty. Drained. Waking up in that room had left remnants of the Cage rolling around in his mind and Dean staring at him through the door while he’d detoxed. On top of the memory of what he’d done with the Mark, it had just worn into the hole in his soul and what little was left of his Grace. Ha. Hole in the soul. Gabriel would like that one.

But Michael’s insistence, Dean’s stubbornness, were starting to wear into his soul and Grace in a different way, filling it up with love he desperately needed. Dean really didn’t blame him. Saw it as the crapshoot that it had been with the Mark, had accepted it, moved on. And he hadn’t even thought of Mom or Azazel or Hell until Sam had brought it up.

It was…forgiveness. Acceptance. Things Sam wasn’t sure he knew how to accept when he felt so numb.

He finally realized that Raphael was speaking, voice rolling over him like a warm wave of water. “…or we wouldn’t have gotten him back to the house.”

“If I need to do another donation, I will,” Dean said firmly.

“Can’t he make more of his own Grace?” Jo asked. “I mean, I might be asking the stupid question here but…”

Raphael shook his head. “You’re right in considering it akin to blood loss, but Grace is part energy, part…I suppose you would call it soul. It’s more than just life giving, it is the very essence of an angel. Grace shared will support an angel long enough to let them reconnect to the main source of Grace and heal on their own.”

“Heaven,” Ellen said, lips pursed. “You’re talkin’ about Heaven. The one place I’m sure Lucifer isn’t very welcome.”

“Yeah, well, tough,” Gabriel said. “He’s not healing down here, guys. Luce needs to get up to Heaven ASAP.” He glanced at Sam, worry in his gaze, and Sam tried to brush his Grace against Gabriel’s, to ease the worry on his little brother’s face.

The world went sideways. He only realized he’d fallen off the sofa when he blinked and found himself in Dean’s grasp, his brother’s hands wrapped in his shirt to hold him up. “-my, Sammy, Luce, _Sammy_ , talk to me, hey, I’m right here, all right? Talk to me.”

“Raphael, he needs to get to Heaven,” Castiel’s voice said, urgent. “I know we were waiting, but with Asmodeus dead-“

“He wasn’t the one working with Zachariah,” Raphael said unhappily from somewhere above him. “I can’t guarantee that Heaven is safe for him.”

“The hell? But he took Sam and Gabriel-“

“For his own purposes, Robert. He has no interest in the prophecy and said so out there when we faced off with him. That means Heaven has a traitor in its midst, and Lucifer will not be safe up there.”

“He’s not safe down here! Look at him!”

The world was doing that black-edged feeling where the ears started ringing and the world felt like it was floating away. _Michael,_ his Grace called out weakly, almost desperately, as he fought to stay conscious, and the world went darker.

Dean cursed a blue streak. “Jo’s right. Raph, he needs to get up there, _now_.”

A moment of hesitation from his other big brother. Then, “Castiel, stay with the other angels and ensure the wards are repaired, then get everyone back to Heaven immediately. We’ll need all the protection we can get.”

“I’ll stay-“

“No Gabriel you will _not_.” Michael, Dean, stalwart as always. “Luce isn’t the only one who literally went to Hell and back. You’re still healing, too. You need to get up to Heaven just as much as he does. Raph, get his other side. Gabe, clear the path for us to one of the healing rooms.”

Wind blew over him, Ellen’s gasp barely heard over Jo’s sudden shriek, the breeze that Sam knew so well as his brother’s six wings spread for flight. Fast flight, as quickly as they spread out and then bunched to make that breeze, and then Dean’s hands tightened all the more. “Hold on for me, little brother,” he murmured, and then Sam felt himself take off, soaring through the sky. Weightless, limp and going limper still, but Dean’s grasp was solid. His brother had him.

“Almost there,” his brother said, or he thought he did, but the black edge took over his entire vision and the last thing he felt was a warmth he hadn’t known in so long.

_Home_.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Gabriel at long last.

On a list of things Gabriel wanted to do today, sitting at what Heaven deemed a coffee table and waiting to hear if his big brother was going to Fall again was probably slightly lower than cleaning an outhouse close to a pig farm. Or going to one of Thor’s keg drinking parties where he insisted he wasn’t going to do something ridiculous, he wasn’t _that_ inebriated with mead.

It was a testament to how worried his other brother was that Dean didn’t even so much as crack a smile at the notion of Thor wearing a dress and wig. No, Dean was too busy pacing in front of a single door. Raphael was beyond the door, his Grace warm and not fading, not dying, not like Lucifer’s was. Not flickering like Lucifer’s was.

Because Asmodeus had taken Luce’s Grace and not his. If he’d just talked sooner and told Asmodeus to take his Grace-

“Okay, I have had about enough of that self-loathing from one little brother,” Dean declared, making Gabriel jump. Dean glared at him, arms crossed. “Don’t you start that crap too. Especially after you just got through telling him not to do it. Pot, kettle.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gabriel muttered. He forced himself to take a deep breath in, then let it out in a woosh. If Lucifer could have heard him, he would’ve made a face and tapped Gabriel in the back of the head, telling him that it was crap, that he’d made the decision to protect Gabriel. What happened next wasn’t his fault.

With a sigh Dean finally stopped pacing and came over to the table. The seat swung out without his touching it, and he flopped into it, looking drained. Gabriel doubted it was from the insane flight to Heaven and the healing ward. They’d taken Sam inside and left him with Raphael, then come out here only when Raphael had shoved them out. Gabriel didn’t know how long it had been since then. He wasn’t keeping track of time; that wasn’t his job. He was the Messenger, not the Time-Keeper.

“You okay?”

Gabriel blinked. Dean watched him from across the table, body slumped but eyes sharp. “What?” Gabriel asked dumbly. 

“Are you okay? I’m not talking about Lucifer, either. How about the whole enchilada, starting with Pennsylvania.”

Gabriel gave a half shrug. Not exactly like he’d been able to talk to Dean and tell him anything about what had happened outside of garbled Grace messages. “Last time I go for a doughnut run on my own,” he said jokingly, smile only partially forced. “Next time I’ll take Raph with me.”

“Or Sam,” Dean said. “Sam may be all rabbit food but put a fried ring with chocolate icing and sprinkles in front of him and he won’t be able to resist.”

He found his smile growing, far less forced than before. “So there is a way to bribe him, is what you’re saying?”

“There’s always a way to bribe Sam. And I know them all. I’ll tell you so we can gang up on him.”

_If he’s around to gang up on,_ his traitorous mind supplied, and it was Dean who reached over and carefully smacked him upside the back of his head. It was almost enough to make Gabriel cry tears of gratitude.

“He’ll get through this,” Dean said as confidently as he could. “He’s been through worse.”

Gabriel didn’t need reminding. He thought about the lasagna he’d conjured up for Ellen and Jo and Bobby and wished he had a piece. It beat sitting here in the white room, waiting to see if Lucifer made it. If Sam made it.

A hand reached out and took his in it. “Sam said that Asmodeus punished you every time you talked,” Dean said quietly.

With a snort Gabriel looked away. “More like tortured Sam to make his point. I shut up fast, trust me.” His stupid mouth had still cut into Lucifer-

_Not you, little one,_ he heard quietly but firmly. Gabriel took a long, deep breath and then let it out. Dean squeezed his hand in approval.

All right, fine. It had been Asmodeus’s fault, and he could readily admit that. Seeing him loom over Lucifer and Michael, watching him ready to tear his brother apart again, it had left him suddenly seeing red. Somehow, he’d found his blade swinging up before he’d even thought of it, wings taking him straight behind Asmodeus without any hesitation.

And damn but it had felt _good_.

It took him a minute to realize that Dean had shifted his Grace to reach out towards the room beside theirs, the door currently shut. “You could go in there and see, you know,” Gabriel said, raising an eyebrow.

Dean shook his head, but his Grace kept tugging all the same. “Raph needs less distractions so he can focus on what’s important.” He glanced up at Gabriel, frowning. “And Raphael said you were okay, that your Grace was back to normal?”

“As normal as I get.” Actually, he’d felt like he could breathe for the first time whenever he’d flown up into Heaven’s gates, but Raphael checking him over had been a different sort of healing. All of his brothers where they belonged.

Now if Gabriel could work on keeping Luce here, safe, that would be the real trick.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Dean muttered. He stood and began pacing again, Grace shimmering anxiously. _Ruffled feathers, literally,_ Gabriel thought, and Dean glared at him. Gabriel just grinned back, unrepentant, and Dean shook his head but let his glare fade into something fond.

That wasn’t going to last forever but whatever, he’d enjoy it while his brothers still thought his being obnoxious was novel. More seriously, he returned to the main topic that they’d sort of passed over in favor of getting Lucifer back home: Asmodeus.

“You wanna not piss me off?” Dean asked, eyebrow raised. “Because even thinking about him makes my blood boil.”

“Still doesn’t make his words any less true,” Gabriel said. “He’s not the wolf in the chicken house, Dean. Zachariah was working with someone and it wasn’t him. I got that much.”

Dean pursed his lips but didn’t say anything. “Believe me, I don’t want to think about it either,” Gabriel admitted. “But if he’s to be believed-“

“And you believe him,” Dean said, half asking, and Gabriel shrugged.

“-then someone else is behind pushing you and Luce to duke it out in one cosmic, end-the-world battle. Someone else is shoving that prophecy all over the place, reeducating angels, and generally looking to cause mayhem. Which I take personal offense to; that’s my job.”

Well. It hadn’t been lately. He’d left the Trickster part of him behind in a lot of ways, and taken up the mantle of the Messenger once more. It had come with his brothers and he didn’t regret it. But he sort of missed being able to pull pranks. Well, there was always Singer.

“Why were you even there in the first place?” Dean asked. “What the hell was in Pennsylvania?”

“Raphael didn’t tell you?”

Dean blinked. “Wait, Raph knew?”

That answered one question. “Naomi told Raph that there was something related to Lucifer’s big uprising down there. I followed it as a lead.”

Dean’s eyes suddenly glowed vibrantly green, and the anger echoed out through his Grace, it was so furious. Gabriel startled at the intensity of the emotion. “Naomi sent you down there to Asmodeus?” Dean asked, Michael’s True Voice edging in.

Oh. He hadn’t considered that. “I mean, I made the choice to go look-“

“But she told you and Raphael that there was something down there. Tell me how that doesn’t constitute a trap.” Michael’s wings unfurled, flapping dangerously. If there was one thing that his big brother couldn’t abide, it was someone who dared to hurt his little brothers. Especially Gabriel as the youngest.

Especially Lucifer, who was a special category of everything as far as Michael was concerned.

_Raphael, Gabriel, I need to speak with you now about Naomi,_ Michael called, and Raphael came out a moment later. Gabriel dared to peek past him and saw Sam laid out on one of the beds, eyes closed in what he hoped was just resting sleep. Raphael’s face gave nothing away but concern over Michael’s call.

_Michael, what is it?_

“How is he?” Michael asked first, all Dean in his bluntness. Raphael actually gave a nod towards the figure behind him. It took a moment for Gabriel to realize he was inviting them inside.

In an instant Michael surged forward and into the room, only to pause beside the bed. Gabriel and Raphael followed at a more sedate pace. Gently, enough to make Gabriel pause himself, Michael’s Grace reached out, seeking out Lucifer’s Grace.

Nothing happened. Gabriel felt his heart stop in his chest.

Suddenly, the room began to glow, brighter and brighter until Gabriel nearly winced. “I didn’t know I needed sunglasses for this,” he said, and there was an even brighter laugh in the light, one that Gabriel knew so damn well. _Lucifer_.

“Rest, bright one,” Raphael said, voice soft, and the light faded back to nothing. The warmth from the laughter took a bit longer to fade. Gabriel let it soak into his Grace, healing something that Raphael’s prowess could never have touched. Lucifer, whole, and home. Better than any medication he could’ve taken.

He glanced at Michael and wasn’t surprised to find his oldest brother resting a hand on Sam’s head, brushing hair away. His face was wet with silent tears, but when he wiped them away, he still had the same fond smile on his face. “We’re here, little brother,” Michael murmured. “Call us if you need us. You’re safe.”

Michael and Lucifer together, that was a balm to the soul, too. Or, well Grace in this case. He still remembered the whirlwind of getting their Graces back, of rescuing them, of splitting them from their Graces in order to keep them safe. They were back together again, in Heaven of all places. And Lucifer was healing. It felt damn good and made Gabriel's eyes burn a little, too.

They headed out and Raphael closed the door. “What’s wrong? What about Naomi?” he asked. “She’s still contained in the room.”

“You’re certain of that,” Michael said. “And she’s had no outside contact besides you.”

Raphael’s frown deepened. “No, no one – Michael, what’s wrong?”

“What did she tell you, about Lucifer?” Gabriel asked. “Down in Pennsylvania?”

It didn’t take but a moment for Raph to put together the dots, and then his eyes widened. “She told me that Lucifer had left something down in Pennsylvania, something that was supposed to help him fight against Heaven. She’d been planning on checking it out before we’d swept her up – she complained that we were keeping her from protecting the other angels, even potentially threatening humanity.”

“Rich coming from her,” Gabriel muttered. Michael gave a tight nod in agreement.

“Do you think she was working with Asmodeus?” Raphael asked. “She had no way of knowing one of us would go down there, Michael.”

“I don’t like this,” Gabriel said firmly, because Raphael was right. How could she have known that Gabriel would follow the bait? “Michael, there’s something we’re missing here. I don’t think Naomi’s the problem.”

Michael turned and began to storm towards the main doors. “No, but I’m about to be _her_ problem.” He froze at the threshold and glanced back at the closed door behind them, sudden panic in his eyes. “Raphael-“

Raphael merely snapped his fingers, and an instant later, Castiel flew in, wings not even ruffled. He must’ve been nearby. “What’s wrong?” Castiel asked immediately.

“We need to go speak with Naomi,” Michael said. “I’m not leaving Sam here by himself.”

“You won’t be,” Castiel said, standing taller. “He won’t be alone.”

Michael gave an approving nod and clasped Castiel on the shoulder. “Thank you, Cas.”

Before, Gabriel knew that high praise like that would’ve made any angel puff up in pride. Now, however, it was a testament to how close Castiel had gotten to Dean when he merely smiled and nodded towards the door. “Go. I’d like to know what you find out, too.”

Gabriel just gave him a salute and followed his older brothers out the door. In Michael’s head, there was a wing-tip forming, covered in stardust and brushed with sunlight, and Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “A principality? Seriously?”

“We haven’t had a principality in a long time, Michael,” Raphael said, but he sounded as amused as Gabriel was. Seriously, Michael was going to make Cassie a principality? It was like asking someone to fill out a dance card while the prom played on around them.

“Okay, both of you, zip it,” Michael said, all Dean in the growl. His brother’s cheeks were a little flushed, though. “Cas would appreciate the gesture. It would just make him more like a lieutenant general, that’s all. That’s about what I figure it’s equal to, except we don’t really do that up here.”

Gabriel’s grin widened as they turned a corner and headed down another hall. It was cute, how formal Michael could be. He’d forgotten about that, especially when he’d met Dean Winchester, who had no idea what formality was.

“Shut up,” Dean muttered, and Gabriel outright snickered. He figured he deserved the smack on the back of his head, even if it was barely glanced off of him. Still going easy on Gabriel, and it was his turn to feel an embarrassed fondness for his big brother.

They reached the containment area soon enough, and the levity faded away. Dean squared his shoulders, a consummate hunter and leader, but before he could grab the door, Raphael suddenly went stiff. “What’s wrong?” Dean asked immediately. “Is it Sam-?”

In an instant Raphael threw the door open. The room was empty.

Or so it appeared at first glance. The faint trace of Grace remained, weak and fading fast, and Gabriel rounded the table, only to stare at the ground. “Raph!” he shouted.

Naomi lay, covered in blood and flickering Grace, gasping for life. Raphael flew to her side and immediately began covering her Grace with his, desperate to keep her with them. Dean caught up and knelt beside her, looking grim. Gabriel meant to help, meant to go forward and rush her to help, but the smell of blood mixed with Grace hit him, and then-

And then it wasn’t Naomi there, covered in blood with wings flashing in and out, but Lucifer, hanging on that dark wall, leaking so much Grace that Gabriel thought he’d Fall for good, and he couldn’t help, he couldn’t do anything except sit there, and Asmodeus just kept telling Lucifer it was his fault, even as Lucifer cried out, even as he screamed, someone, anyone, just-

He found himself pushed away and immediately fought back, snarling when his hands couldn’t find purchase. _Little one, Gabriel,_ he heard echo through his very being, and he knew the voice, would’ve known it anywhere. He shuddered and found himself in a bright room, as far from Hell as he could get. He blinked and blinked again, but there was no bloody angel in front of him, only one very concerned big brother. “You back with me?” Dean asked.

Gabriel gave a jerky nod. “Yeah. Sorry. She needs help.”

“Raph’s got it. And I’ve got you.” Dean gave a wry grin that was edged in heartbreak. “Maybe you need to take a break with Sam for a bit. You’ve been running full tilt, too.”

At the moment, there was suddenly nothing Gabriel wanted more. “I should help,” he protested, because that’s what a good angel would do, and Dean shook his head.

“Nothing to help. Raphael’s going to try and keep her alive as best he can but…”

But she was in bad shape. Already Anael was there, face pale but full of determination, working on something behind Dean that Gabriel couldn’t see. He tried to glance behind Dean but his brother just kept him planted. “Nothing you need to see again,” Dean said quietly. “We’re all heading to the same place. Let’s just get back to Sam, all right?”

Back to Sam, because they’d left Cassie with him, and if whoever did this to Naomi did it to Cas then-

Gabriel took off, Dean flying right behind him. They burst into the room, startling Castiel into pulling his blade. “What’s wrong?” Castiel demanded instantly. “Michael?”

“Bad news, that’s what,” Dean said. “But Gabe needs to rest.”

Castiel immediately opened the door and there was Sam, still resting, still healing. Carefully Gabriel stepped inside, and this time, there was a gentle brush of Lucifer’s Grace against his own. Questioning, calming, protecting him, even though his big brother’s Grace was in no shape to do it. “Ease off,” he murmured. “I’m fine, Luce.”

_No you’re not,_ Lucifer seemed to whisper back, but he was, getting better the longer he stood there. Sat there, because apparently Dean had settled him onto one of the chairs. Whatever. Sitting, standing, it all felt the same level of exhausting.

Noises from outside the door suddenly caught his attention, but Dean gently shut the door with a brush of his hand. Despite himself, Gabriel found his lips turning up. “You’re getting good with that,” he said, a little surprised when his voice came out slurred with exhaustion.

“I’m here,” Dean said. “Nothing’s getting past me. Just rest.”

There were a whole bundle of questions that Gabriel wanted answered, the first being if Naomi was even still alive, but even thinking about it took him back to that room down in Hell and-

He shut his eyes and focused instead on Lucifer’s Grace, soft and warm but just as worried as Michael’s. His eyes prickled and he could’ve sworn he felt someone’s hand brush through his hair before he drifted off.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I promise I actually do know where this fic is going and have laid out numerous chapters for that very purpose. I'm not just dragging us through brotherly love and angst for no reason.
> 
> Not that I think y'all mind but still. I wanted you to be aware.

When Raphael finally stopped moving between healing rooms and came out to join them some time later, Dean figured he already knew the answer. Castiel didn’t move from his seat beside him, merely nudged a chair closer with a quick pull of his wing. Raphael fell into it with a weary sigh.

Still, he felt compelled to ask. “So…”

“I don’t know how much of a recovery she’ll have, or how long it will take,” Raphael said. “But Naomi _will_ live.”

Dean straightened in his seat. “She will?”

“She will, yes. A few moments later and she might not have. Her Grace was worse than Lucifer’s. Whoever had done it hadn’t been gone long.”

Had they passed anyone in the hallway? Had they missed something while they’d been joking around? Then he realized he was missing the most obvious question. “Who did she say did it?”

“She didn’t,” Raphael told him. His brother winced a little at his own answer. “She hasn’t said anything. She’s too weak and will be for a while.”

So much for that. “Of course that’s the way it is,” he muttered. It’d be too easy for Naomi to have named her attacker, the one that Dean had to presume was behind all of this. She was just a puppet on the strings that Dean knew he could’ve cracked. As Michael, getting into her brainpan wouldn’t have been difficult.

Now, with her Grace in tatters and her life hanging in the balance, any chance of getting information out would probably kill her. And that wasn’t a line he was willing to cross. Not when he didn’t know the full extent of Naomi’s involvement. Just because she’d been hanging out with Zachariah didn’t mean she’d been behind all of this.

Besides, if he started killing angels here in Heaven, well. They were going to have far greater problems.

“Gabriel is resting well,” Raphael said, clearing his throat when the silence began to fall harder. “I don’t believe he understood just how exhausted he was.”

“He never does,” Dean said with a sigh. All that energy to fly around and play messenger took a lot out of even an archangel; he had half a suspicion that the candy wasn’t always a choice but a necessity, like Sam’s coffee or Bobby’s whiskey.

“I, um, would like for you to go see him.”

Dean glanced up at Raphael, whose eyes were darting left and right as if to look for danger. Even as Dean began to frown, worry growing, Raphael quickly waved his hands. “He’s just fine, but I would feel better if you would go in and sit with him for a while,” he said, and he put a heavy emphasis on the last few words. When Dean still didn’t move, he jerked his head meaningfully to the closed door behind them.

Fine. He’d go check on Gabriel, and Sam while he was at it. He glanced at Castiel who rose as well, but Raphael caught the other angel by the shoulder. “You and I will go see what we can find out about Naomi, in the meanwhile,” he said. “Anael will be here if you need anything, Michael.”

_Well that’s not weird or anything,_ he could all but hear Sam say, and it pushed him towards the room. Carefully he opened the door, intent on slipping in without disturbing the occupants. Then he stopped, halfway in.

Gabriel was now curled up in the bed where Sam had been, and Sam sat in the chair beside him. His fingers rested on Gabriel’s head, and two of his wings were laid over Gabriel like a blanket. He glanced up at him when Dean froze in the doorway, then stunned Dean even more when he made a bitchface. His hand quickly waved Dean in like _Dean_ was the problem here, and not the guy who Dean had thought was _dying_.

Hands that felt like Raphael’s shoved him from behind into the room and quickly shut the door. “Can you not take a hint?” Sam asked, annoyed, and that was about all Dean could stand.

“How are you even _up_? You were still healing-“

“And I did,” Sam said. “Just being up here has done more for me than I could’ve hoped for.” He gave a grin then, and all six of his wings flung out, bright and beautiful. Even the darker feathers that had long been inlaid were lighter in color. His Grace was bright and vivid, almost as bright as the night that their Graces had been found and retrieved.

Slowly Dean moved forward until he could see his little brother up close. The bags under his eyes were gone, and the stark difference without them just made Dean wonder how long they’d been there. His eyes were bright and knowing, and his grin softened into a full Sammy smile, dimples and all. He looked healthy.

This was the little brother that Dean had been hoping to find underneath the crap that had been thrown at them. This was the little brother he’d left behind when he’d headed into Hell. This was Lucifer before the Mark and the Cage.

Sam stood, carefully disentangling his two wings from Gabriel, a fond chuckle escaping when Gabriel muttered something uncomplimentary but slipped back into sleep. It was almost like Dean had stepped into a different world, the differences between this Sam and the Sam he’d flown to Heaven were so drastic. He floundered for a moment, unsure of what to do.

In the end, Sam made the decision for him. Arms tugged him forward into Sam’s tight embrace, and Dean shut his eyes and held on. Soul and Grace beat beneath him in a steady heartbeat, and his wings brushed against Sam’s.

After a moment, he forced himself to step back. “I’m okay,” Sam said quietly. “I promise.”

“Then why the hell all the secrecy?” Dean said. “Cas would’ve wanted to know you were okay, too.”

“Yeah, because there’s not someone who’s inside Heaven right now that’s nearly killed Naomi and is probably the same person who’s looking to see me dead,” Sam deadpanned. “No reason to keep my being healthy and here a secret at all. You’re totally right.”

“Shut up,” Dean said, smacking him in the arm. Sam raised an eyebrow and it was such a Sam thing to do that Dean suddenly felt his eyes burn. Because Sam was here, Sam was _here_.

_I am,_ Sam sent, Grace stronger than ever, and Dean let his Grace move forward to meet his brother’s. It felt like when they were little kids for some reason, all bright energy and fun and happiness. He was pretty sure he could hear the echo of Sam’s giggle from when he was five years old.

“I really am okay,” Sam assured him. “Being here helped. In…in a lot of ways.”

At least the uncertainty he understood, and strangely enough, made him feel a lot better about Sam not being replaced with a pod person. Sam rolled his eyes at that, another point in his favor. “You’re a jerk,” Sam muttered.

“Yeah, well, considering one of the last things I heard you tell me before you passed out was that you were the root of every single problem and that you were waiting for me to hate you, I figure you can understand why I’m a little surprised here to see you upright and smiling like the world’s perfect.”

A red flush began to blossom in Sam’s face, and his wings nudged at one another in jerky motions, a sure sign of his feeling embarrassed. “Like I said, being here helped,” Sam finally told him.

“Locked in a room. Again,” Dean added, lips pursed in irritation at the image. It felt like his brother lived locked away from everything else.

Sam shook his head at that, though. “Not like…the other times. This is me laying low for my safety, not because I’m a danger to someone else. I can leave if I want. But it’s safer here. And just being here, anywhere up here, it’s…”

There was that touch of awe in his eyes again, and yup, there was the answering pain in Dean’s heart. Sam had never argued about staying down on Earth over the past few weeks, never once said that he wanted to get up to Heaven, but it was clear that his little brother had missed it. Somehow, Dean hadn’t realized just how much Lucifer had needed to be in Heaven, and how much of his stress had probably stemmed from being denied entry again and again.

The last time he’d been in Heaven had been right before he’d been tossed into the Cage.

“You should’ve told me,” Dean said softly. “About a lot of things, but especially this.”

With a sigh Sam sat back down. “I didn’t really know,” he admitted. He gestured with one of his wings to the room around them. “That this was such a huge part of it. But when I got up here, it was like…like the last piece I’d needed was here, and I was whole again.”

“So you’re not going to argue with me anymore?”

Sam frowned. “About what?”

“About what’s your fault. And that you’re not evil incarnate.”

Sam pinched his lips together, stubborn to a fault. “Dean-“

“It wasn’t you,” Dean insisted. “Any more than that voicemail was me. Or that any of this is Raphael’s fault.” _Please, little brother._

A few moments of silence passed, and Dean watched the emotions chase across his brother’s face. Indecision, clearly, as guilt and self-loathing warred with trust and belief. Not in himself, but in Dean and what Dean was telling him.

Just as Dean was considering saying something, Sam met his gaze again, and he gave a small smile. “You might need to keep telling me,” he said, but the guilt was gone from his eyes. Just trust, shining through and resounding through his Grace. Trust in Dean to guide him and tell him the truth.

It was honestly nothing short of humbling, that Dean’s word meant so damn much to him. It just resounded how much damage the voicemail had probably done. “As many times as you need,” Dean said, relieved, and his brain considered again how much trouble he’d cause if he brought Zachariah back only to kill him again.

Sam’s smile grew a little more. “A lot. I don’t feel like messing with the Empty.”

“Not without me you don’t,” a sleepy voice added, and Dean found Gabriel sitting up and stretching. His youngest brother glanced between the two of them, and something in their Grace must’ve alerted him, because he immediately grinned, bright and looking centuries younger. “I slept through the angst fest? Considering myself lucky.”

“Ass,” Sam muttered, but he only gave Gabriel a gentle nudge. Gabriel looked even more pleased with himself, and there was relief in his eyes, too.

Dean found his own lips turning up into a grin. “Like _you_ haven’t put me through enough chick-flick moments either lately?”

“I’m just saying, Samshine’s angst was going to take a long time to deal with. _How_ long was I asleep again-?”

Gabriel suddenly found himself off the bed on the ground with one good sweep of Sam’s wings. Not that it stopped him from chortling, even while Sam scowled at him. Dean let out a snort and the scowl immediately transferred to him.

Whatever Sam had planned to do them both was interrupted by a phone ringing. It took Dean a minute to realize that it was his phone, and he pulled it out, bewildered. “There’s…cell reception in Heaven?” Sam asked, sounding just as surprised.

Gabriel shrugged. “Phones work in Heaven, with people receiving thoughts from those still alive. It’s sort of like a prayer, in a way. So it makes sense that cell phones work, too.”

It was a thought that Dean would have to file away for consideration later. Right now, the name _Bobby_ across his screen made him nervous. He answered and put it on speaker. “Hey Bobby, what’s wrong?”

“ _I can’t just call to say hi?”_

The silence that followed was answer enough. “ _Yeah, all right. You all took off like a rocket and left us with no idea what the hell’s goin’ on with Sam or Gabriel. It’s been two days, and I don’t do patient well. Not when it’s my boys on the line.”_

Dean glanced at Sam and wasn’t surprised to find the soft, almost dewy look on his brother’s face. Sam had never been as sure of anyone else’s affection for him except Dean. He remembered how Sam had all but lost it the night the Cage had opened and Bobby had welcomed him back with open arms. He raised an eyebrow at Sam. _All yours._

Sam cleared his throat. “I’m all right, Bobby.”

“ _Sam?”_ The relief in Bobby’s voice was audible, as was the smile. _“Hell, I didn’t think you’d be alert enough to answer, but I’m damn glad to hear you. You sure you’re okay?”_

“I am, actually, yeah. A lot better.”

“ _And Gabriel?”_

Gabriel blinked. “Uh, yeah. I’m good too.”

There was muttering on the other end of the line edged with relief. “ _I couldn’t have kids that kept me from havin’ more gray hairs, could I?”_

“You adopted Winchesters, what do you want?” Gabriel said with a grin.

“ _Like you’re any better than Sam and Dean in that regard.”_

It was clear that Gabriel hadn’t considered himself an extension of Bobby’s family, and Dean watched his youngest brother struggle to take that in. He wrapped one of his wings around Gabriel’s shoulder, not at all surprised when Sam did the same. “I can make your hair any color you want, if that helps,” Gabriel finally managed to get out.

_“Somehow, I think I’ll steer clear of pink with polka dots, thanks,”_ Bobby said dryly. “ _You’re all fine, though?”_

“As fine as we get,” Dean assured him. “Ellen and Jo still with you?”

“ _Yeah, and makin’ buddy-buddy with Ezekiel and Sidria here. Jo’s takin’ notes on everythin’ angel that they tell her, but I’m pretty sure Zeke’s yankin’ her chain with a few things. Man’s got a poker face to be envied.”_

“He always did,” Sam murmured, a smile on his face. Gabriel just looked proud, which told Dean everything he needed to know. Of course Ezekiel had been one of Lucifer and Gabriel’s: kind, honest, but a sense of humor that was masking a streak of mischief.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Getting a little sappy over there, Dean-o.”

Dean flipped him off, earning a snort. “You guys are all right down there, though? Nothing wrong in the past two days?”

He’d expected a swift response, so when he didn’t get one, all the tension he’d let go of suddenly came rushing back. “Bobby?” Sam asked, just as apprehensive.

Bobby sighed. “ _Was kinda hopin’ you weren’t going to ask that. I wanted to give you time to rest up before the next bag of crap got thrown your way.”_

“We’ve got some of that up here already,” Dean told him, and he briefly went over what happened with Naomi. Gabriel seemed surprised that she was still alive, but also a touch relieved, too.

With a curse Bobby called Ellen’s name. “ _They all right?”_ was the first thing Dean heard her ask.

“We’re okay,” Sam said, voice gone impossibly soft, but his Grace dimmed a little in apprehension. Dean should’ve sent along the memory of Ellen and Jo demanding to be a part of the hunt for Sam; he wouldn’t have felt as worried about their affection for him. _More loved than you know, kiddo,_ and Sam's face went a little red with the tiniest of smiles.

“ _Good,”_ Ellen said firmly. “ _I’d rather not worry about you dying if that’s all the same to you.”_

“ _That ain’t somethin’ you’ll stop doing with them, trust me,”_ Bobby muttered. Louder, he added, “ _We got an article you ought to look at.”_

Ellen spoke up. “ _You two will have to look at the pictures for yourself, but the gist is there are demon omens popping up over on the west coast. The type of omens that Ash was trackin’ for Yellow Eyes.”_

Sam flinched. _Lucifer, don’t even,_ Dean warned, and Sam swallowed hard but nodded. Progress. “Yeah, um. Any chance you can email the article to us?”

“Got one better,” Gabriel said. “How about praying it to us?”

Silence met his suggestion. “ _You’ve got to be kidding me,”_ Ellen said. “ _Praying?”_

“Yeah. Think about the image and send it to us via prayer-mail. Trust me.”

More silence, then Bobby cleared his throat. “ _Just when you think you’ve done it all…all right. Uh. Hail Michael and Lucifer, heavenly angels who give gray hairs and require acid reducers-“_

“Just the image, please,” Dean said. Sam was grinning again at least.

It was different than getting a prayer from Raphael or Gabriel. This was clearly a different channel than angel radio, a touch more static but more emotion behind it. Even though the images came through, there was residue of fear, worry, and so much relief and love that for a minute, Dean felt overwhelmed. Bobby really _had_ been worried about them.

“ _Take these images to do thine will with and, uh, get to me thy ideas on what to do next. In your feathery names I pray.”_

Despite the emotion packed behind the images they’d just gotten, Dean couldn’t help but smirk. Then the images sank in with the final words of the prayer, and he blinked, stunned. Because that…

Towns empty. Crops decimated. Cattle dead in the fields. And one big ass earthquake that had devastated a road through two towns and split it down the middle.

“ _You get ‘em?”_

“We did, yeah,” Dean said. That was demonic activity, all right. But at that scale and that sudden-

“Um.”

Dean glanced up. Sam’s wings were back to fidgeting again. “I thought you said I missed the angst fest,” Gabriel said, but he looked more concerned than annoyed. Sam didn’t even comment, making Dean all the more worried himself. There was also the whole part where Sam wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Sammy.”

Finally Sam looked up. “You, um, remember that part where you said it wasn’t my fault?”

“It’s not,” Dean said in tandem with Gabriel.

With a sigh Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because that looks an awful lot like Ramiel and Dagon’s work.”

“Still not your fault.” He paused, then realized what this meant. “Aw shit.”

Sam winced at that but Dean waved him off. “No, not that, I just…” This meant having to go deal with two powerful demons, but more than that, this meant making Lucifer leave Heaven. Barely settled in and already his little brother would have to leave again. After millennia of waiting, it wasn’t fair.

He began to speak but Sam shook his head. “It’s fine, Dean. We were going to have to leave anyway. It’s not safe for me up here. Not yet.” He smiled then, a little wistful, hopeful thing. “The sooner we deal with them, the sooner we can come back up here safely, right?”

“Right. And you will, I swear it,” Dean promised. Luce _would_ get to come back and spend time here. This was his home as much as Bobby’s house or the Impala. And he’d never be kept from it again.

Sam’s smile broadened. “Then we need to find Raphael and get going.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter count has been added. I know where this road leads and I know how we're getting there. So sit back, enjoy the ride, and make sure to take in the sights along the way.

Finding Raphael was easy. Castiel only agreed to stay behind in Heaven when it was clear all the archangels were going to go back to Bobby's together. Dean only had to look at Sam and think, _We’re all going together,_ for Sam to know just what memory was on his mind. Not that Sam intended to argue with him, but it drove home the point nicely. This time, Sam wasn’t going without his big brothers.

Still, there was one last thing he needed to do before they left Heaven. “Give me a minute,” was all he said before he ducked into the next room over, the one with Naomi. Dean moved after him before Raphael caught him by the arm. Sam shut the door as Raphael looked to be explaining something in low terms to Dean.

Well, Raph knew at any rate.

If Anael looked surprised to see him when he came in, she kept it to herself. “So,” Sam said, and then his brain couldn’t come up with anything else.

Anael pinched her lips into some semblance of a smile. “So.”

“Who’s your vessel?” Sam asked. A young woman of some sort, with curls on end. It was the wedding band on her finger that caught Sam’s attention the most, though.

Anael followed his gaze and huffed a small laugh. “She prayed for me, actually. Said she would do anything if I would just heal her husband. He was dying. I helped. I’ve…gotten good at healing.”

The fact that Naomi was still alive, lying behind her on the bed in a healing state, was clear testament to that. At least one good thing had come out his machinations under the Mark.

He took in a slow breath. Under the Mark. It got a little easier to believe the more he thought about it. Dean’s constant insistence helped, too.

A boost of something that felt like approval came through loud and clear, even with his big brother on the other side of the door. _Michael, I will lock you out again,_ he threatened, and he got an answering laugh before he felt his brother’s Grace back away a little. Still there, still refusing to leave him alone completely.

He turned back to Anael, confidence restored long enough to say what he needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

She blinked, seeming surprised. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “What I did all those years ago, pulling you down my path of destruction, I never should’ve done that. You looked up to me and I…I abused that.” Young and kind, Anael had been barely more than a fledgling when she’d gotten caught up with Lucifer’s idea. He was just grateful that Castiel hadn’t been dragged along with his ride. He’d cast his net wide and caught enough angels to start his rebellion.

Anael looked as if she were trying to decide what to say, but whatever she saw on Sam’s face must’ve convinced her to plow ahead. “I could make decisions for myself, you know.”

“No, not really. Your whole purpose was to follow Father’s rule, and we spoke in his stead. You got lost and that’s my fault.” He dipped his head, unable to meet her gaze anymore. “I’m just grateful that you went to Raphael. He was a better mentor than I could’ve been.”

“He also wasn’t possessed by an ancient evil, so. There’s a distinct difference.”

Startled, he glanced up and found her giving a sheepish grin. “That’s what Raphael told me, after I was put back together. And I feel foolish now, you know? Because it was so obvious, looking back.”

She paused, smile falling. “You…don’t feel that way about humanity anymore, right? Or Michael, or the prophecy?”

“ _No_ ,” Sam said emphatically. “Screw the prophecy. My goal is what it was in the beginning: to protect humanity, and Michael.”

_Other way around, little brother,_ Dean shot his way but Sam waved him off. If his big brother thought for half an instant that he wasn’t there to protect Michael too, well, he was sadly disillusioned. He’d protect all of his brothers, even if it cost him his life.

The rate everything was going, there was a good chance of that.

The emphatic refusal of that came from all three of his brothers _and_ Castiel. “Eavesdroppers,” he muttered.

“Then…you didn’t do this? To Naomi?”

Everyone went silent in his mind, thankfully. “What?” Sam asked, bewildered.

Anael bit her lip. “I just, I guess I assumed…but it’s clear you didn’t.”

“Anael, I’ve been resting and healing. Whatever Naomi’s wrapped up in, I had _nothing_ to do with it.” He could feel the unease growing from her Grace as it dimmed before him, and he forced himself to bring his wings down behind him. “Why do you think I would?”

With a sigh Anael folded. “Because Naomi and Zachariah were following someone with far more power than they had. They never said who. But when I got to Naomi in here, before she went under, she whispered your name.”

Gobsmacked, Sam could only stare at her as she kept going. “And she said…” Anael pursed her lips unhappily. “She said, ‘His will must be done.’ Then she faded out.”

Finding air to breathe was a little difficult. He could feel familiar Graces hurrying towards the door, and with a swing of his wings he blocked them from coming in. If they came in now, he’d never get the answer to his next question. “Anael, who were Naomi and Zachariah following? Who gave them their orders, for the reeducations, for opening the Cage, for this supposed fight between me and Michael?”

“I don’t know,” Anael insisted. “They never told me. I thought Raphael knew, but he’s just as clueless as the rest of us. All I know is that Zachariah was taking orders from someone else.”

“Were they working with Hell?”

“Naomi, never,” Anael insisted. “She stayed here in Heaven. She wanted nothing to do with anything outside of our borders. Zachariah, though…I wouldn’t be surprised. His wings got dark along the edges.”

Now that Sam thought about it, Zachariah’s wings _had_ held a darker shade along the tips. He’d assumed it was a designation of some sort but if it wasn’t…

“I’m glad you’re you again.”

When he met her gaze, Anael gave him a soft smile. “Because this you, this is the Lucifer I remember wanting to follow,” she said quietly. “The one who cared about everyone, the one who was fiercely protective of angels and humans both. If anyone can keep us safe, it’s you and Michael.”

The door pushed open, his wings caving easily to allow others in. Shocked, he thought, along with the rest of him that was still trying to play catch up to Anael’s revelations. A hand fell on his shoulder and helped ground him. “You good with Naomi?” Dean asked Anael.

She gave a firm nod. “I am. I’ll call for you if she wakes up or if anything changes.”

“Zeke’s on his way back up to stay with you. No one goes anywhere alone,” Dean said. “You hear me?”

“Of course, Michael. Thank you.” She glanced at Sam and smiled. “And…thank you, Lucifer.”

He thought he gave a brief nod of some sort, but then Dean got him out of the room and back to the others. Both Raphael and Gabriel looked concerned, and Castiel was vocal in his worry. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he managed. “Yeah, I’m all right. We, uh. We need to get out of here. Anael couldn’t have been the only one who wondered about my involvement. So that means-“

“Heaven’s off limits for you,” Dean finished. He hung his head and sighed. “ _Dammit_. I’m sorry, Sammy.”

“We’ll figure this out,” Raphael said. Gabriel gave a firm nod of agreement.

Something began to burn inside his chest, hotter and hotter until every breath felt like fire, and Sam realized with surprise that he was angry. No, not just angry, _furious_ , that someone had decided his time in the Cage wasn’t enough, that he hadn’t been wrong enough with the Mark on his arm and the Darkness seeping into his very being. No, he had to be pushed out of his home, forced into a corner where he was supposed to be evil, then made to face off against his brother in a fight to the death that would ultimately tear the world apart?

“Samshine? You okay?”

“No,” Sam said, almost growling. “No I’m not. But I will be.” He turned from Gabriel to Dean, Grace burning with a need for justice and vengeance. “ _Fuck_ the prophecy and whoever’s pulling the strings. I am _done_.”

Once, Michael would’ve settled his rage, soothed it away with calm words and assurances. Now, however, Dean just gave a nod and a smirk. “Good,” was all he said with sound approval.

“So let’s go find some demons,” Gabriel said. His eyes glowed gold.

“Bobby’s first,” Castiel advised. “I want to see those articles for myself.” It was very clear that he was no longer interested in staying behind. Sam couldn’t blame him.

Sam gathered his wings around him and let himself drop, out of Heaven and plummeting towards Earth. His wings opened and he balanced himself in the air, then tucked them in for speed once more. His brothers followed after as they headed for South Dakota.

Bobby Singer’s home was a curious place. Despite the clutter and disorganization (which the man insisted was organized exactly to his liking), it was clean, it was comfortable, and, as Raphael was beginning to understand, it was a home, one that instantly soothed both Sam and Dean the instant they appeared in the living room. Jo jumped a little upon their arrival and Ellen let out a small gasp that sounded more like a hiccup, but Bobby himself did neither, merely raised an eyebrow at them all. Well, Raphael had to admit, there were five of them and the room was but so big; it had to have been a surprise.

“Took you long enough,” Bobby groused. “I expected you here ten minutes ago.”

“We would’ve been here sooner, but we were busy getting new information from an unsuspecting source,” Dean said. He glanced at Sam but Sam just gave a tight nod. Still angry, still stubbornly determined to keep on.

It was nice to see what Raphael remembered well from Lucifer before the Mark.

Ellen moved forward without any hesitation. “You all right?” she asked Sam.

That at least softened his brother’s ire, and Sam’s shoulders came down. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he said. “Thanks.”

Ellen smiled, the first that Raphael had ever truly seen, and she tugged Sam into her arms as if he were her own. Sam shut his eyes and relaxed even more. Despite the height difference, it was clear who was shielding who.

_I think there’s a ‘whom’ in there somewhere,_ Toni hinted from within, and Raphael found his lips turning up.

As soon as Ellen was done, Jo was there next, tugging Sam in for what looked more like a squeeze than a hug, but Sam returned it eagerly. “Don’t do that again,” Jo said when they parted, and she slugged him in the arm for emphasis.

“I’ll try,” Sam told her, smiling, and the smile disappeared the instant Dean cuffed him upside the head, sending his hair everywhere.

“No, you won’t just _try_ , you will _not_ do that again.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Gabriel asked, eyebrows raised.

Bobby made a noise of agreement, and when Sam turned to him, the only one left, Raphael just crossed his arms. “I get no respect,” Sam muttered.

“What’s this new information?” Ellen asked before Dean could speak again. Raphael found that he liked her, a lot, and it was clear why Sam considered her like a mother.

Dean pursed his lips, and his eyes flared bright green with his Grace. What would’ve sent other humans scurrying in fear just made the three humans before them put hands on hips or cross their arms. Clearly, they were getting far too used to residing among angels. It was probably for the best, honestly. “Out with it,” Bobby snapped.

“Anael told Sam that someone was using Zachariah and Naomi as puppets,” Gabriel said. “And that Naomi named Lucifer right before she went under.”

“Under?”

“She was attacked in the holding room,” Castiel explained. Jo’s eyes went round. “She would’ve been dead had they not found her when they did.”

Bobby pulled his hat off his head to scratch at the nape of his neck, a clear sign that he was agitated. “That's what you said earlier, but still. Balls. You’re not dealin’ with some demon, you know that.”

It was the one thing Raphael had tried very hard to not look at very closely, that someone in Heaven was capable of doing something that foul, had enough power to manipulate angels and force two archangels to battle it out. It would’ve taken a great deal of power, a great deal of authority to bend Zachariah and Naomi to their will.

His will. Not theirs, his.

“’His will must be done,’” Sam murmured. “That’s what Anael said Naomi spoke last.”

“But she coupled it with your name,” Dean said. “So did she mean you? Or someone speaking for you?”

“Someone’s trying to jumpstart the rebellion again, that’s clear.” Gabriel flopped onto the nearby sofa to emphasize his words and gave a loud sigh. “Singer, you need new furniture.”

“Oh yeah, let me get right on furniture shoppin’ right now,” Bobby drawled. “I got loads of free time here, between demon princes and Heaven still a problem.”

Gabriel just glared at him. “You could just _ask_.”

“I don’t need whatever you think is furniture.”

“I have impeccable taste. You saw my place in Norway.”

“ _No,_ Gabriel,” Dean and Sam suddenly said together, even as Raphael saw the vision of a new, cherry red and fuzzy sofa appear in Gabriel’s thoughts. Gabriel looked as if he were pouting but lowered his hand before he could snap it into being.

Bobby shook his head. “I don’t want to know. And you’re avoidin’ the bigger statement here: whose will?”

“Who’s powerful enough to hold that much sway over an angel?” Ellen asked. “I’m not exactly up to date on an angel’s hierarchy here. I assumed archangels were at the top of the list.”

“We’re God’s first children,” Raphael said. “So in that way, yes, we are the most powerful of the angels.”

Jo took a seat beside Gabriel, and Gabriel rewarded her with a quick grin and a lollipop, which she took with bewildered amusement. “Who’s more powerful than you, then?” she asked. Her eyes widened in delight whenever she pulled the paper off the lollipop and found whatever flavor it was to her liking.

Gabriel’s leg began bouncing up and down. “Another satisfied customer,” he said with a grin, but Sam reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not Him.”

Somehow, Raphael hadn’t caught on to Gabriel’s near manic behavior, but Sam had. A moment later, Gabriel’s grin faded, and he went nearly still. “C’mon, Luce, there’s no one else who ranks above us,” he said quietly. “Dad’s it.”

“You think _God_ is doing this?” Bobby asked incredulously.

“He wouldn’t,” Castiel said without any hesitation. His voice was firm and resolute. “This is not what God would’ve wanted, what He would do.”

“And where is He to ask, huh?” Dean said suddenly, surprising Raphael. “He left Lucifer to rot in the Cage for eons on end, then decided-“

“Dean, no-“

“-to disappear when all of his angels go rogue? No, I’m sorry, when they _do Heaven’s will_ which somehow includes me and Luce duking it out to the death?”

Sam’s tentative objection disappeared entirely, and for the first time since he’d woken up, Raphael saw his Grace dim a little. Dean’s anger on the other hand was beginning to stir various papers around the room. Castiel, too, no longer looked resolute and sure of himself, and Gabriel was staring at the floor.

Raphael had no words, nothing to stave off what he knew was an absurd theory. There was no way that Father would turn His children against each other, would bring about the end of the world He had created. He _wouldn’t_. But the words wouldn’t come.

Surprisingly, it was Bobby who spoke next. “All right, listen to me. No Father worth his salt tears his kids apart. Even John, for all his damn issues, never separated the two of you. If God was really behind all this, don’t you think He’d be here to personally supervise it? Or just tell you ‘this is what I want’ and make you do it?”

The papers settled. Dean began to speak, then stopped. Sam’s Grace grew brighter, and Gabriel’s gaze was up and clear.

Raphael wondered if Bobby was aware that he, Robert Singer, was perhaps the most powerful being in the entire world at that point, because he’d calmed four archangels and a seraph with naught but his words. Well. His words and his clear devotion to the men he called sons.

“How about lateral?”

Ellen met everyone’s gaze evenly. “Anyone with as much power as you, just sideways a bit?”

“There is no one…” And then Raphael stopped, because there _was_ someone with their equal level of power. Someone who spoke with Father intimately.

“Joshua?” Sam said, blinking. “You think Joshua could do this? _Would_ do this?”

“He’s the only one capable of it,” Raphael said. It didn’t even bear thinking about, sweet Joshua in the Garden, but he was the only one he could think of.

“Who’s Joshua?” Jo asked.

Gabriel shook himself as if stunned from a blow, and even Dean looked ill. The answer, when it came, was from behind them. “Joshua tends to the Garden and speaks with God himself.”

Sidria stood in the doorway, eyes wide as if surprised at her own words. “Sidria, we didn’t think you were still here,” Raphael said, pained. Not that she didn’t deserve to know, but he’d hoped to keep the younger angels out of the mess for as long as he could. It hurt him to see her hesitance, her shock that the world was far more complicated than she had anticipated.

“I, I didn’t want to leave them here alone,” she said, nodding towards Ellen, Jo, and Bobby. “Ezekiel went to join Anael, but I wanted to wait until you were here. Then you began to speak and…it couldn’t be Joshua. It just couldn’t.”

“When’s the last time you saw Joshua?” Sam asked softly.

She bit her lip before sighing. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to the Garden. Since anyone has, I think. We used to go all the time to see Joshua, to rest, to hear God’s Voice around us as it echoed from previous chats with Joshua, but…”

“But it’s been a long time,” Dean finished. Sidria nodded slowly. “Why?”

“We’ve been busy. Out on assignments, other things to do. It just wasn’t a necessity. So I didn’t go. Others didn’t go either. I don’t know anyone who’s been in the Garden lately.”

Raphael hadn’t been in some time. The last time he’d gone, Joshua had told him to stop worrying so much, to clear his mind. “It’ll all turn out fine,” he’d been assured. “It’ll turn out the way it needs to happen.”

The Winchesters had been born not long after that, and Raphael had begun bracing for his siblings to battle. Had it truly been so long since he’d spoken to the Gardener?

“So Joshua’s a possibility,” Bobby clarified. Dean slowly nodded. “Not one you like thinkin’ about?”

“It’s just…it’s _Joshua_ ,” he said at last. “You couldn’t ask for a more neutral, peace-keeping guy. He’s the one who would always listen and then settle disagreements.”

“Like Plato, playing both sides until we figured it out,” Sam agreed.

Dean mock-glared at him but there was fondness in his gaze. “Geek.”

“Inerudite.”

“Hey, I graduated high school!”

“Because of me.”

“Well what did I need to know it all for? I have you.”

Sam shook his head as if exasperated, but his Grace brightened all the more in affection. Dean just grinned and couldn’t help but add, “Besides, _The Republic_ was boring,” and Sam’s mock-annoyance suddenly was so ‘mock’ anything.

“It was not-“

“If we could skip the literary review?” Ellen cut in. “If it _is_ this Joshua, what can we do about it?”

“Nothing,” Gabriel said. He shrugged when Jo pinned him with a glare. “It’s true. Getting rid of Joshua is unfathomable.”

“It might have to be fathomed,” Raphael told him. “But we don’t know if Joshua is behind all of this. For now, we have more immediate, pressing concerns.” He turned to Bobby and gave a nod.

Bobby turned a laptop screen around for everyone to see. Images moved across the screen, one right after another in a neat slideshow. The destruction done hadn’t taken any lives but had wreaked havoc across home and land and animals alike. It was a wonder that no one had been hurt: lucky was the word Raphael would’ve used if he hadn’t known it was caused by demonic activity. Yet the mutilations and forced exits from towns had clearly been the work of a demon.

“Yeah, so, that’s not good,” Gabriel agreed.

Sudden movement made Raphael turn to where Sam stood, wings bent as if to fight. “What’s wrong?” Dean asked immediately, his wings imitating Sam’s. Always ready to back him up, always ready to follow his lead.

“No one died,” Sam said, but it was a question more than anything else.

Bobby shook his head. “Empty towns were cleared out after some gas came pourin’ out of the ground. A few sick but nothin’ else. They don’t know when they can go back, since agencies haven’t found the source of the gas. Cattle’s dead, but no people.”

“Engraved invitation,” Sam murmured, face twisted in disgust, and Raphael suddenly understood.

“They’re calling to you, Ramiel and Dagon. This is their way of catching your attention.”

Dean curled his fists. “Yeah, well, they got it. They got all of our attention. You think they’ll be there?”

Sam gave a curt nod, eyes still on the screen. Raphael glanced and saw an image of a mother clinging to her children. All of them looked frightened.

“You didn’t do this,” Bobby said, voice low, watching Sam. Sam swallowed and nodded again, but it was slower this time, and nowhere near as determined.

Dean stood up straight, Michael to his core, and turned to Sidria. “Stay here with them.”

“Not a chance,” Ellen said firmly. Dean spun on her but she held her ground. “We’re comin’ with you.”

“It’s not safe,” Sam started and Jo stood, cutting him off.

“It’s never safe, Sam. But we couldn’t help get you out of Hell, and we couldn’t help fight beside you when that demon turned up here. We can do this much. We can handle demons.”

“Among other things,” Bobby said. When all eyes turned to him, he made a face. “You think I’m the only hunter that’s put two and two together about what happened? You think those same hunters didn’t get the call that Ellen and Jo did, that those other hunters that trapped Sam did?”

Raphael felt his very Grace freeze in place. Sam, too, went still, and Dean looked as torn as Raphael had ever seen his brother. “Well, shit,” Gabriel muttered.

Demons they could face, and would face. But humans getting in the way, humans intent on helping demons whether they knew it or not, those were targets Raphael didn’t want to neutralize. Michael had been well justified to remove the hunters that had killed Sam, even if for a short period of time, but if they could avoid a bloodbath, they had to.

Which meant having the three hunters beside them would only help. Which meant they had to take them with them.

Raphael cleared his throat. “Sidria, you’ll come with us, then. You and Castiel are to help protect the Harvelles and Bobby.”

“And we’ll protect you, too,” Jo said, lollipop still clutched firmly in her hand. Castiel’s lips finally turned up into a smile, and Raphael found himself equally cheered. The young woman’s enthusiastic soul was beautiful in its determination and loyalty. They’d do their best to ensure it was protected.

Dean finally blew out a heavy sigh. “Grab gear. Bobby, you’ll take the Colt. We’ll head out now, take you angel-style. The sooner we get there, the better chance we have of beating other hunters to the site.”

“What about the other demons?” Castiel asked. “What are the chances that Crowley and Meg are behind this?”

“Low, but possible,” Gabriel agreed. He glanced up at Sam. “This isn’t really Crowley’s speed. And last I heard, they were still in angelic witness protection.”

“As safe as I could keep them, yes.” Castiel made a face. “I haven’t been ‘perched on their rooftop like a vulture waiting to feed’ though, so I don’t know what they’re doing right now.” His fingers moved randomly, straightening and then bending. _Quotation marks,_ Sam supplied at Raphael’s bewilderment.

Dean snorted. “Crowley or Meg?”

“Crowley. Meg encouraged me to perch wherever I pleased, particularly in relation to her proximity.”

Probably far more delicate than the demon’s actual words had been, and he saw Sam finally grin as Castiel’s discretion. “We’ll check on them, make sure they’re safe.”

_And give Crowley the keys to the kingdom, now that Asmodeus is dealt with,_ Dean thought. Sam startled, glancing at Dean with wide eyes, and Gabriel’s jaw actually dropped. Dean pursed his lips and shrugged. “I needed to get in to get you and Gabe. Giving him the crown was a small price to pay.”

It wasn’t a small price, not really, but it spoke clear volumes to both Sam and Gabriel in just what Dean had been willing to do in order to break into Hell. “Dean,” Sam began, then couldn’t seem to finish.

Dean softened at that. “I told you, we’ll always go together. I’m not leaving you. Either of you,” he added, glancing at Gabriel. Gabriel seemed lost for words but he gave a jerky nod in return.

“To Oregon?” Ellen asked.

Sam slowly nodded. “Yeah. To Oregon.”


	16. Chapter 16

The town was silent and still. As close to the highway as they were, as close to the ocean as they were, Raphael didn’t understand why he couldn’t hear the waves or vehicles. It felt as if all the noise were being sucked from the air around them.

“Okay, _ow_ ,” Jo muttered, stumbling a little as they landed. Raphael caught hold of her by her elbow even as Dean steadied her on the other side. It took a touch of Raphael’s Grace to ease the vertigo and nausea, and Jo quickly found her equilibrium. “Thanks.”

Reaching out to the other two humans, currently clinging to Sam and Castiel, left both Ellen and Bobby standing stronger as well. Only then did Raphael truly turn back to the town.

It wasn’t a large city by any means, but it was well traversed and should’ve held many humans. The stench of something foul filled the air, and Raphael realized with a start that it was sulfur, but sulfur on a level that never should’ve existed here on Earth.

It smelled like Hell.

“Can you actually tear a physical rip from Earth to Hell?” Sam asked, surprised. “Because that’s-“

“That’s what Hell smells like,” Gabriel said. He grimaced and slid his blade out into his hand. “No, they can’t, not really, but a deep fissure with some dark magic will do the trick. It’s not so much of a mouth of Hell as is it a wound that needs a few stitches.”

“And ruin all of our hard work?”

Raphael turned as the others did. Two figures stood at the end of the road. One was a man in a leather jacket, the other a woman with a long coat. Yet the darkness inside of them was akin to what he’d seen in Asmodeus.

Bobby raised the Colt at the same time Ellen and Jo raised their weapons. The man gave a laugh. “You think any of those will work on me? I’m demon royalty. No one can touch us.”

“How about me?” Sam asked, stepping in front of the group. The man paused, and his eyes flashed a sickly yellow. “You think I can’t take you, Ramiel? I _made_ you. And I intend to unmake you.”

The woman began to bow, but Ramiel hauled her upright. “Don’t bow to him,” he hissed. “He’s not the Lucifer we were waiting for. This one’s gone soft, gone back to Heaven. That wasn’t part of the plan, Lucifer. You were supposed to be our _king_!”

The word ‘plan’ caught Raphael’s attention. “And what plan was that?” Dean called. He sauntered up to join Sam, all casual nonchalance, but his wings were taut and ready to move when needed. “The plan where we wipe you out for good?”

“The plan where you rose from your Cage, unfettered and free, and turned your righteous wrath upon Heaven,” the woman said. She looked in awe of Sam still, and it made Raphael more than uneasy. He almost would’ve preferred the anger.

Ramiel had no problem being angry. “Dagon, shut _up_.”

“Oh come off it Ramiel! He’s here!”

“Asmodeus is _dead_ because of him-“

“Actually, that was all me,” Gabriel said, waving the hand with the blade in it. “You’re welcome.”

“Besides, Asmodeus had a different plan. One that involved him ruling Hell,” Sam pointed out. “Not me.”

Ramiel growled. “Of course he did. Fucking bastard. We spent so long working towards you being freed and then it never happened. We got used to walking the Earth, doing as we pleased. And that’s the way I’d like to keep it.”

He paused, eyes roaming over the humans, and Sidria immediately stepped in front of them. Ramiel just smiled slow and with a great many teeth. “Of course, if you were here to… _offer_ these sacrifices to us, you’d have our loyalty and pledges once more, Lucifer. Michael would be yours to deal with, of course.”

Sam’s eyes flared red and his wings flew out. Ramiel and Dagon both tensed. “Touch any of them, and it’ll be the last thing you do,” Sam threatened in a low voice. “That includes my brothers.”

“As if they could take me,” Dean said, glaring at the demons as if he were insulted. He probably was.

The demon went back to smiling. Raphael didn’t like it. Something fluttered behind the demon for a moment before a long spear dropped into Ramiel’s hand. Something simple yet elegant, something-

Raphael stiffened. Something he hadn’t seen in eons. “Is that,” Castiel started, stunned, only for Ramiel to cut in.

“The Lance of Michael? Yes, it is. And it’s Lucifer’s for the taking in order to kill Michael.”

Even as Sam stared, uncomprehending just what Ramiel was holding and how he’d even gotten it, racking his memory for the information he needed, a sudden flare of darkness pushed in from the sides. At least a dozen demons came out from between the buildings, all of them black-eyed and filled with malice.

Sam didn’t think, he just reached out and _pulled_. The demons began to smoke out, choking as they fought to stay in their hosts. With a snarl and a snap of his fingers the demons burned out into ashes.

“Damn,” Gabriel said with a low whistle. “Leave some for the rest of us, bro.”

“Why would you do that?” Dagon yelled, eyes wide in what almost looked like hurt. “These humans aren’t worth anything, they’re not your _family_ , we are!”

Sam stared at her. “Family?” he said incredulously. “What are you even talking about?”

“Dagon, shut it,” Ramiel growled.

“No, I won’t.” Dagon glared at him and then turned to Sam, pleading. “You gave us fresh life, you created us, everything we have done has been for _you_! Of course we’re your family!”

His hands began to shake and he felt his wings curl behind him. Anxiety, shame, he couldn’t have named, but his stomach churned, too, until he thought he’d be ill. “You emptied towns, you sent people running for their lives, you mutilated livestock just to get my attention,” he said, voice low. “Father only knows what else you’ve done and justified it, probably reveled in it, in _my name_.

“And that’s on me,” he admitted, pained. Dean immediately turned to him, as did Gabriel, but Sam stepped forward and away from them. “No, it is. I did create you. But you were never beholden to me. I didn’t tell you to do this.”

“That’s why we wanted you here,” Ramiel said. He twirled the lance as if it were a toy, and Sam remembered now when Michael had received it, a gift from Father, etched with protective runes from Gabriel and blessed with a feather of healing from Raphael for its bearer, and-

_“You did not do anything with it,” Michael commented, raising an eyebrow. “Even the little seraph, Castiel, insisted on giving it his blessing and prayer, but nothing from you.”_

_He smiled and held his hand out; the lance was placed in his palm a moment later without reservation. “Mine is a little…unconventional,” he admitted. “I wasn’t sure Father would approve.”_

_Michael frowned as he pulled forth a small jar of dark blood. Lucifer coated the end of it fully and a moment later, the spearhead looked untouched and clean._

_“What was that? Lucifer?”_

_“A way to ensure it fatally wounded all whom you willed with swiftness, and slowly killed those whose hearts were purer. A justice system, as it were.” He smiled at his brother. “For what else would my blood do?”_

_Sammy? Luce!  
_

Sam blinked, pulled back by Dean’s call. “We want guidance,” Ramiel continued. “And we want you to do what you’re supposed to do: kill Michael.”

“Who told you that was what we were supposed to do?” Dean asked. “Because let me tell you, your information’s a little off. Not that I’m surprised, considering who you are, but-“

“So Heaven’s not the paragon of truth?” Ramiel said. His eyes flashed again and he grinned, wide and horrible. “Color me surprised.”

Heaven? He’d gotten orders from Heaven? “And you’d listen to Heaven why?” Bobby asked. The Colt never wavered in his grasp. “Doesn’t seem your style.”

“Hard to ignore it when the big man himself speaks up,” Ramiel said. Sam froze and felt his brother’s Graces do much the same. As if sensing the change, Ramiel leaned in closer, his grin feral. “What’s the matter? Not as close to Daddy as you used to be?”

“You **_lie_** ,” Castiel growled, his True Voice burgeoning out and making Jo and Ellen both wince. Castiel’s wings flared out in righteous anger. “ **He would never** -“

A howl sounded behind them, and two more answered it. Sam spun around and saw three Hellhounds pawing at the ground. They were horrific looking in nature, skin rent and torn and mutilated. Their eyes were blood red and wept black ooze, and it drooled off of their fangs to hit the ground, sizzling where it touched the pavement. Their claws were long and sharp, and not a single one of them seemed the least bit concerned about the archangels in front of them.

Dean stepped in front of everyone, all six wings out, and the Hellhounds simply sauntered forward. “Dean,” Sam said, suddenly feeling the memory from his brother of being dragged to Hell by similar beasts, but Dean just twirled his blade and smirked.

“Their mistake if they come at me.” He glanced beyond him towards the two demons. “Last chance to tell us who really gave you your showdown plan.”

“And I’m telling you that we already have,” Ramiel said. “God Himself deigned to share it with us. I guess you didn’t get the newsletter; I’ll forward you a copy while you rot in Hell.”

Bobby spun around to join Dean in defending the rear, and Ellen’s gaze and shotgun never wavered from the demons in front of them. Ramiel just smirked and more darkness poured in from the side. Dozens of demons, hosts of all ages and sizes-

The people from the empty towns. They hadn’t fled, they’d been taken captive.

He wasn’t here to kill a town full of people; smiting wasn’t on the agenda. He couldn’t keep his family safe with this level of damage to control, though. “Sidria, get them out of here, _now_ ,” Sam ordered.

The Hellhounds charged at the same time the demons raced towards them from both sides. Sam reached out again just as Raphael grabbed Ellen and Jo and shoved them behind him. A gun went off behind them, followed by a growl. Dean’s Grace never wavered, only brightened, and Sam let himself focus on the demons he’d caught hold of. It took almost nothing to contain them but a lot more to focus on exterminating the demons while protecting the hosts. Other hosts stopped and began to writhe, and Gabriel and Raphael’s Graces surged forward. The sounds of a fight caught his ears, punches and grunts and whimpers from the Hellhounds.

“Lucifer, enough,” Dagon shouted angrily, and Sam suddenly found Castiel stumbling to the ground. He turned, startled, only to see Dagon’s arm outreached towards the fallen angel. She glared at them both, eyes bright yellow. “You’re destroying everything!” she yelled. “Everything you wanted, everything we worked for, and you’re ruining it all!”

“This isn’t what I wanted!” Sam shouted. “If you know me so well, you’d know that!” He sent his Grace out and caught her off-guard, shoving her away. She shrieked and dropped something from her hand, something small and green, and Sam could see the Enochian etched on it. He needed it, _now_.

Ramiel caught it up first, teeth bared. “Not a chance we give up our only way of stopping you,” he sneered. “Even if it makes me sick to touch it. It’s worth it to put a collar on an angel.”

“That’s a Seraph Stone,” Castiel managed weakly, and if Sam had thought he was angry before, it was nothing on the fury he bore now. More fighting behind them sounded, but it came with a yelp and the feeling of the darkness lessened. One down, at least.

The demons came in again, and Sam reached out, caught them, and began to burn them out. Ramiel squeezed his hand around the stone and Sam found his own Grace fluttering a little. Castiel hit the ground, writhing in pain. “What the hell is that?” Sam choked out.

“It’s…it’s a stone meant to call the Seraphs to arms, to gather them into one legion,” Castiel whispered. He forced himself up on his arms and glared at Ramiel. “It was never meant to control an angel. Ever. You have modified it and twisted it from its original purpose. How you even have it, I don’t know.”

“I told you; Heaven’s been fairly open with us as of late. This is what your ‘Father’ wanted,” Ramiel taunted. Castiel’s eyes flared with Grace as he shoved himself forward, blade raised.

Too late, Sam saw that Ramiel had his prize. “Cas, no!” he shouted, darting forward and catching hold of Castiel’s arm at the same time Ramiel threw something forward. Something bright and hot flared up and no, no, not again, _no_ -

Even as the holy fire ring closed in around them, causing screams and making Sam’s wings ache, even as Castiel clung to him and shied from the fires, another scream went up and then the earth itself trembled. The ring was nearly shut when the earth trembled again and suddenly a shockwave hit the air. The flames vanished, leaving Sam and Castiel standing alone in the middle of a circle of ashes.

Sam glanced over and found Ramiel on the ground, writhing in pain, body flashing as it burned from inside. Above him stood Dean, lance in hand, handle firmly jammed against the ground. “I’ve had about enough of my little brother in a ring of fire,” he growled. “You shouldn’t have touched him. Either of them.”

Ramiel glared at him one last time before choking and succumbing, leaving behind a burnt and bloody corpse and more unanswered questions.

Sam let his gaze move over the group. Bobby held the Colt in his hand, smoke trailing from the barrel. Three Hellhound corpses littered the ground in front of him. Off to the side, Raphael and Sidria had surrounded Ellen and Jo, both of whom looked as if they’d taken on the demons that Sam had been forced to surrender. A few remained but most looked to be cleared of demons, standing and blinking in stunned silence. Dean had the lance in both hands and Ramiel dead in front of him, and Gabriel-

Gabriel had a hold of Dagon, his eyes golden and angry. Dagon struggled and hissed as she fought to free herself. “Let me go!” she demanded. “I’m more than you can handle, little angel.”

“Just give me one good reason,” Gabriel said sharply. “Just one damn good reason. In fact, actually, I take it back. One stupid reason and that’s all it’s gonna take to set you on fire.”

“We need her,” Sam said, and Dagon looked at him as if the sun had risen behind him. He pursed his lips. “She’s got the information we need. Don’t kill her yet.”

For a moment, Dagon stared, stunned, before she began to laugh, high and hysterical. Jo raised her shotgun mostly on principle, Sam thought, but he couldn’t blame her. “I’m not giving you a damn thing,” Dagon spat. “You can all go to Hell. Well. You can go _back_ to Hell,” she added, a cruel smile tugging the corners of her mouth from ear to ear. “I’m sure the Cage is lonely without you to prey on. I heard it’s cold – is it cold, Lucifer?”

_Cold, weighed down wings made of ice, nowhere to go, no air to breathe-_

“ **Enough** ,” Dean said, True Voice echoing enough to shake the window panes. He managed to pull himself in, but only just. “You want to walk out of here in one piece, I suggest you start talking.”

Dagon didn’t take her eyes off of Sam. “If you must-“

“And start talking to me, not him,” Dean interrupted. “You stay the hell away from my little brother, bitch.”

“Why, afraid he’ll choose another demon girl over you?” Dagon taunted.

Sam felt his lips curl up into a snarl. _Easy, Samshine,_ Gabriel warned, but Sam was well past the point of caring. He’d been promised forgiveness and he was tired of his past mistakes being thrown in his face. Not when he’d fought so hard to find redemption and make things right. Not when he’d fought so hard to stay together with his big brother, to be worthy of the love that Dean kept giving him, the love that Michael had never stopped giving him.

Dagon seemed to finally realize that she’d gone too far, and she cowered like Sam had known she would. He pulled himself up to his full height, wings and all, and let Lucifer shine out from his gaze. “Tell me,” he said, voice dangerously soft. “Who told you the plan?

“God,” she said. Lucifer felt his rage building and she scrambled to continue. “I’m telling you, the prophecy came from on high and tumbled down our way. Asmodeus didn’t care about it, said he wasn’t getting involved in politics, that he only cared about the throne and Hell. Ramiel, though, Ramiel said this was our chance to have you lead us again. Azazel was no good at it and Asmodeus was only out for himself, but if you fought Michael and won, and God Himself had said it had to happen, then we’d get the whole world for ourselves, Hell on Earth, with you as king. It’s what we wanted! It was the original plan all those years ago, remember? Leading the world into darkness, isn’t that what you said?”

_“The world will be plunged into Darkness, and the Darkness will rise.”_

Dagon hadn’t understood. None of them truly had, what Darkness he’d meant. He shook the memory away, refusing to check his arm. The Mark was gone, buried in the Cage, and never coming back out. “What did you do?” he said. “Not just this, but what else did you do?”

Dagon’s shoulders hunched towards her ears. For someone who’d been intent on not giving him anything, she was certainly happy to cough it all up now. “W-We sent out a call, to hunters everywhere. We figured once they turned on you that you’d blast your way through them, and you’d realize that humanity is just a disease that needs to be wiped off the Earth. That you’d come back to us.”

Zachariah had said that, too, when he’d held Sam captive. Each side had thought they’d get the Earth as a prize, that their champion of the prophecy would walk away from the fight.

“Where did you hear about the prophecy though?” Castiel asked. “God didn’t come to you and tell you.”

Dagon pursed her lips. “I said Heaven already,” she groused, but Lucifer had had enough. Before Dean could stop him, he reached in, past the host, past the fine layer of oily slime that surrounded the dark cloud of demon, and then into the very core of Dagon. There was his own Grace, twisted and dark, and he steered clear of it to get his prize. There, the memory, perched on the precipice of Dagon’s mind, and he broke it open from its box.

Then stared. That was who had told them? But why…?

_Lucifer! LUCE!_

He pulled back from the memory but suddenly the glimmer of Grace he’d given them was there, the Grace edged with darkness, and his entire being shuddered and gasped as it dug into him. He felt as if he were falling, unable to catch hold of anything to save himself, that horrible thing digging deep into his core and leaving him cold and feeling as if he’d be sick.

Hands caught him and pulled him out, and he realized he was on the ground, on his knees, gasping for air. “Easy, easy,” he heard Michael say, but his voice sounded as if it were on the long end of a tunnel. He managed to steady himself and opened his eyes.

In front of him, Dagon’s body lay, as burned and dead as Ramiel’s. “What happened?” he asked, or tried to; his tongue didn’t seem to want to work.

“You tell me,” Michael said tightly. He knelt beside Lucifer, hands keeping him upright and steady. “She suddenly grabbed your arms and you screamed. Your whole Grace seized and shook. I don’t know what the hell she did.”

“Whatever it was, he ended it fast,” Gabriel said. He stood above the two of them and he looked grim. “Can we not do whatever the hell that was again? Because holy shit, Luce, that was…that was bad.”

“Her Grace,” Lucifer said, then cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean, _my_ Grace, that I gave them, the one…the one that was tainted with the Mark. She tried to shove it at me.”

Michael went still, and then suddenly there were three Graces flooding against his, each one fighting to make sure he was all right. “Stop, stop, easy,” Lucifer begged, and reluctantly they all fell away except for Raphael’s. “M’all right.”

“You sure about that?” Bobby asked. “Thought you were dyin’ for a minute.”

“I need alcohol,” Ellen muttered. “A lot of it.”

“We all will,” Lucifer said. His Grace felt too raw, too jarred, and he shoved it aside for a moment. It was easier to be just the soul of Sam Winchester at that point. “After I tell you what I found.”

Dean was there with him, helping him rise. “Found?”

“Her memory,” Sam explained. “Ramiel did hear it from Heaven, but also someone else, too.”

“Who?”

Sam glanced at the group gathered together, then back to Dean. “Zachariah,” he said, then swallowed. “And Cain.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite starting the wrap-up to the fic as we have less than ten chapters to go but yeah, we're heading for the big finale now.

“I think it’s a bad idea.”

“No, I think it’s a _colossally_ bad idea.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Sam sighed and rubbed at his head from where he sat, making Gabriel watch him with a bit more focus than before, but he just seemed exasperated. Satisfied for the moment, Gabriel turned back to the room at large. Singer’s living room was starting to feel like a war room, the coffee table in the middle wide enough to hold coffee mugs and an array of texts. Each one of them held information about Cain, including two that were destined to burn in the Alexandrian library that had made Bobby and Sam nearly salivate. Gabriel wondered for a half moment if Sam was aware that _he_ could wing his way back in time if he felt so inclined.

“Don’t tempt me,” Sam muttered, casting his eyes wistfully towards the two scrolls as he continued to rub at his forehead. Despite the fact that his big brother couldn’t get a headache, so to speak, Gabriel couldn’t help but nudge his Grace forward to soothe. He got a knowing smile for it and a brush of Grace against his, a shoulder-to-shoulder bump of affection.

Dean continued glaring at Sam, arms crossed. “Did I mention _colossal_ in terms of bad?” he said again.

“Once or twice,” Castiel muttered. Dean shot a look his way but didn’t say anything, just did that “I’m a big brother and I disapprove of your message,” thing that Michael had perfected eons ago and Dean had clearly picked up like a duck in water.

The look shot Gabriel’s way next. _Watch it, kiddo,_ he heard, and he just grinned.

_Leniency period over?_ he couldn’t help but ask.

Annoyed affection rolled over him from numerous Graces, including Sam. “And I was defending you,” Gabriel said, pretending to be affronted. “The thanks I get.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Ellen muttered, shaking her head.

Bobby snorted. “You get used to it. And I know you ain’t gonna like me sayin’ this, Dean, but I think Sam’s spot on: I think we need to go deal with Cain. Because this ain’t anywhere near what you got out of him last time.”

“Nowhere close,” Dean confirmed. “He told us he wanted to stay out of it, that he wasn’t going to wake up the Mark.”

“Yeah, and as you so rightfully pointed out last time, demons lie,” Gabriel said. That particular conversation had nearly sent Gabriel spinning, the thought of Lucifer being so twisted and evil that he would ordain Cain to kill Abel in order to save his soul, but then Dean had shot it down, leaving Cain’s story a visible falsehood. One Cain hadn’t been thrilled to disclose.

In front of him, Sam suddenly sat upright, eyes wide. Gabriel winced. Oh _shit_. “That’s what Cain told you?” Sam whispered, horrified. “Dean, my memories might not be completely filled in but I know that I _never_ -“

“I know you didn’t,” Dean said immediately. “I knew it wasn’t you, Luce.”

He had, too. Without any hesitation, Dean had called Cain out as a liar, had insisted he knew his little brother better than anyone else, and he’d been right. _I know, Heylel,_ echoed out, and Sam gave a small smile of gratitude.

Dean pursed his lips. “But that’s another reason why I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

“He doesn’t have the Mark anymore,” Sam said, still stubbornly determined. Of course he was.

Gabriel finally sat down across from Sam with a sigh. “Yeah, but Samshine, this doesn’t make for the world’s greatest idea. I never knew Cain from before the Mark. I knew him in the early days of the Mark, and I knew him in his glorious days as the First Knight of Hell. When we saw him a couple months ago, the term ‘asshole’ still absolutely applied. I’m not sure that’s going to change.”

“I can deal with assholes. That doesn’t scare me. What _does_ scare me is someone coming at us and seeing it too late.” Sam began to speak, then stopped, but the image of Asmodeus came through anyway, being trapped in a ring of fire. Gabriel rolled his shoulders back and pushed a different image through deliberately, of stabbing the bastard and how good it had felt. Sam’s lips turned up.

Jo set her mug down on the table. “When do we leave?”

“You don’t,” Gabriel said immediately, and he wasn’t surprised to hear Dean and Sam echo him. Jo pursed her lips but Gabriel waved her off. “No. Absolutely to the hell _no_ do you go anywhere near Cain.”

“He’s the original murderer, Jo, and a nasty demon to boot,” Dean added. “Nuh uh. I don’t want my brother, who is a very powerful archangel now, anywhere near this asshole. You think I want you and your mom and Bobby near him?”

“You gotta give us something, then,” Ellen insisted. “We don’t want to just sit idly by or be babysat some more. No offense,” she added, glancing at Sidria. Sidria just smiled. “But seriously. We can do something.”

A sudden maelstrom of ideas began to fly around and around, and Gabriel realized that he remembered this sensation: from being too close to Lucifer. And he’d thought it was bad whenever Sam’s brain went off the handle when he was just human. “Holy shit Sam, slow _down_ ,” Dean exclaimed, staring at Sam like he’d appeared out of nowhere. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Sam said, waving them off. “There is something you can all do. You can start calling hunters. You can help turn what Dagon and Ramiel started around.”

Bobby’s eyes widened. “Get them off your backs, tell ‘em it was all crap.”

Slowly Dean began to nod, his own mind doing some impressive whirling around. “Tell them that it came from one of Gordon’s whackadoo friends, some guy that’s been shady in the business. That it’s not true and that someone’s been using it as an excuse to try and put the hit out on Sam. You can add in that if they don’t take it as the lie that it is, I’ll personally introduce them to my new favorite weapon.” He glanced over at the wall where the lance currently sat, and Gabriel could feel his excitement and pride. _Kid in a candy shop,_ he thought.

_You would know,_ Raphael said, amused, and Sam just grinned. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I intend for them to know that if they go after Sam, they’re goin’ after me too,” Bobby said. “Not just you who wants to see this nipped in the bud.”

“That goes for us too,” Ellen said. Sam’s grin softened and she reached over, tussling his hair. “Archangel or not, we’ll do our best to keep you boys safe.” She paused, then glanced over at Gabriel. “A few more boys than before, but what’s two or three more?”

“And a girl,” Jo pointed out. An image of Sidria floated through her head, Sidria’s sweet disposition clearly doing the talking. The young angel cleared her throat and looked elsewhere when everyone turned towards her, but she snuck a glance at Sam all the same. _Lucifer, you could tell her she did a good job,_ Gabriel prayed directly, and Sam finally nodded.

“And a girl. We owe you, Sidria. Thank you for keeping them safe and stepping up to the plate.”

That was definitely a proud smile now. “I’m glad to have helped. Anything you need, and I’ll be happy to do it, Lucifer. Sam,” she amended a moment later.

Bobby just smirked but said nothing. Yeah, he was sure everyone thought it was a simple crush, but love wasn’t like that with angels. Lucifer had been the mentoring angel, the leader for Sidria and the other angels, someone to look up to and admire. And he was back, the angel she’d remembered after they’d torn out the reeducation. Her mentor and leader, back again and asking for her help: it was a dream come true for any angel.

So Gabriel wasn’t particularly surprised when Sidria spoke up and said, “I’d like to come with you, to fend off against Cain. The more angels, the better.”

“We need someone here with them-“

“Which is why I will stay,” Raphael said, neatly cutting Dean off. “This makes sense: no one will mess with an archangel here, and Cain might not feel as threatened with three archangels than with four. He’s going to know exactly who you are now, Gabriel.”

Last time, he’d skated through on the image of being an angel in disguise, of hiding behind Loki. This time, that wasn’t going to happen. Especially since the last time Gabriel had seen Cain, it had been to tear the Mark from his arm and stick it on a piece of the Witness Trees. Only an archangel could’ve had the power to do what he’d done, so his true self couldn’t have been hidden.

Well, this would be an interesting meeting, then.

“We’ll see how it goes,” Castiel said. “I’m interested in meeting Cain for myself.” There was no question in his tone, and he had the same stubborn look he’d clearly picked up from Sam.

“Cas-“

“I’m ready to leave whenever,” Castiel said, quickly overriding Dean’s objection. Gabriel swallowed back a smile but let the emotions he’d been keeping at bay come forward, because this wasn’t a milk run. Cain was still dangerous.

“And we appreciate it, Cassie. But this is what you and Sidria need to know: that Cain could still have demons waiting for us, like Ramiel and Dagon did. And I don’t know about you, but going from one to the next without any down time is a little exhausting.”

That got a reaction, but not the one he’d expected. “You should’ve told us you weren’t feeling up to it,” Sam said. Oh look, there was his patented big brother look too, the “I didn’t sense something wrong with you and I thus have failed you as a big brother,” look that Gabriel had sort of forgotten about and really loathed.

“Should’ve, could’ve, didn’t,” Gabriel said. “And I know you’re feeling like you went a few rounds, too. Maybe we pause a little bit, take some time to regroup.”

Dean made a face. “As much as I hate this idea, if we’re going to take Cain on, it’s gotta be now.”

Gabriel began to answer to that because whose side was Dean on here, seriously, but then Bobby spoke up. “Element of surprise. He’ll catch wind that Ramiel and Dagon are dust and any chance of getting a straight answer out of him’ll be before that happens.” He wrinkled his nose and gave a half-glare at Sam. “Much as I don’t like this idea either, it makes tactical sense.”

“Gabriel, if you need to rest-“

“How about you?” Gabriel exclaimed, cutting Sam off. “You’re recovering from having most of your Grace sucked out of you, never mind that show of Grace and psychic energy you just put on in Oregon. I think that warrants a break or two.”

Sam glanced around at everyone as he began to speak, then stopped. _Gabriel, I know you’re worried about me,_ he said in a direct prayer. _I understand. I’m worried about you too. But I cannot just sit here and wait for Cain to do something else if he’s a bigger force behind this. I can do this with Dean, Castiel, and Sidria. And I can definitely do this with you, little one._

In, out. Another deep breath to settle back the panic that kept stupidly popping up whenever he least wanted it. _Lucifer, it’s just…_ And he knew his memories spoke for him, but those long weeks in Hell under Asmodeus still felt too much like yesterday.

Sam softened. _Gabriel, I know. I remember what he did to you, too. I want to head it off at the pass before anyone gets the chance to do it again. Cain knows more than he’s letting on. All we need to do is pick his brain. Three archangels and two seraphs are more than a match for him._

Maybe. Cain wasn’t to be underestimated. Still, without the Mark, he was bound to be weaker. Maybe. Hopefully.

The others stood by, clearly understanding that there was a conversation they weren’t privy to but waiting in the wings. It sort of made Gabriel want to shower them all in candy or something else extravagant. He hadn’t expected to get any of his family back over the long, cold years. To have more than that now in this crazy crew, well. It meant a lot.

And having his big brothers back, that meant a lot too. Especially Lucifer, the one who’d encouraged his mischievous side and indulged his many trips down to Earth. Even if he went by a different name now, Sam had more than stepped into the role and was every inch of the big brother he’d been before the Mark.

“All right,” he said, and he cracked his fingers. “Let’s see what Cain has to say for himself.”

And if he conjured up a lasagna with a large chocolate cake for dessert that would tempt even Bobby before they winged off, well, he had enough Grace for that. He’d always have enough Grace to take care of his family.

The farm looked much the same the second time around. Dean had sort of anticipated being met with numerous demons, so landing without much fanfare was something he was grateful for.

He could sense the surprise from Sam as he took in the scene. “This is where Cain, Knight of Hell and killer extraordinaire, retires to?” he asked, looking around at the numerous bee hives. Castiel suddenly seemed incredibly interested in the bee hives, wandering over to one and peering at it curiously. Dean glanced at him, more than a little amused at his friend’s sudden change of direction. Determined Captain one instant, guy walking around a bee hive the next.

_It’s the little things,_ Sam thought, and Dean snorted.

“He’s inside,” Gabriel said, nodding towards the house. Dean followed his gaze and saw a dark cloud of energy, ancient and loathsome, tucked away inside.

Dean blinked, surprised. “ _That’s_ Cain?”

“Different from a perspective of Grace, huh?” Gabriel said. “You know that sick to your stomach kinda feeling you got with the Princes? Yeah. That’s you reacting to their stench. And Cain’ll feel the same way.”

Sidria stood silent beside them, fists clenched, no trace of a smile on her face. Dean reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Easy, Sid,” he said quietly. “We’ll keep you safe.”

“It’s my job to keep you safe,” she countered, but her voice had gone soft. “I suppose I expected this level of evil from Ramiel and Dagon, but didn’t here. It’s…worse, somehow, with him. I don’t know why.”

“Cain chose this,” Sam said. He took a deep breath, and Dean reached out with one wing, tapping him on the shoulder. A quick smile acknowledged his gesture of support. “Ramiel, Dagon, even Asmodeus and Azazel: they were created from darkness and infused with more of it. They followed what was already inside of them. But Cain…Cain chose this, embraced it. It’s different.”

Gabriel gave a slow nod. “I think you’ve hit the nail on the head, Samshine. And for that reason, please stay the _fuck_ away from him.”

“Only if you promise to do the same,” Sam shot back. _Children,_ Dean sent them as a warning, and Sidria finally smiled.

Castiel came back then and rejoined them. “Decided to take up beekeeping?” Dean asked.

“It has a great deal of potential,” Castiel said. “But I was more discussing with them what they’d perceived.”

Dean blinked, then wondered why he was surprised. Of course Castiel would consider the bees as a reliable source and go speak with them. “And?” he asked.

“There have been no other demons here for some time. They were agitated, though; Cain has not been calm as of late, and has gotten worse. They’ve tried to contain his agitation but there is only so much they can do. They’re afraid of him.”

“Well, when the bees say to be wary, I say we follow their example,” Dean said. “Blades ready on this one.” With that, he set off for the house.

The bees, if bees were to be considered a credible source, meant that Cain had gotten worse _after_ the Mark had been removed. Which didn’t make any sense at all. Wouldn’t the Mark have made him more dangerous? Why start getting worse now?

Only one way to find out.

The door swung open ominously before he could even touch it. The dark cloud inside swirled a little more, waiting. He _was_ waiting, Dean realized, waiting for them like they were prey.

This felt more and more like a trap.

As if sensing that he was about to put a stop to the entire thing, Sam pushed past him and into the main room, leaving Dean cursing and unable to do anything except move forward after him. Behind him, Sidria’s Grace flared in anxiety, and Dean got that. Boy did he get that. He sort of missed a more hesitant brother. Just a little.

And then he couldn’t worry about anything, because there was Cain.

Cain hadn’t changed in appearance, other than his hair looking a little longer and more unkept. That, and the bare forearm that rested against his knees. He sat in a chair along the wall in his living room, head bowed. Yet the dark cloud that surrounded him and came from what appeared to be his chest rolled all the more. It felt like an oppressive cloud that made his own Grace bristle, ready to put his blade to use.

Sam cleared his throat, and the cloud reared back. Cain himself didn’t move. “Hello, Cain,” he said.

At that, Cain raised his head. His eyes were dark and his face was blank. “Lucifer himself,” he said. “I’m sure I ought to feel privileged that you deigned to visit me, but I feel that this is not a pleasant call. Not with five angels before me.”

“You ought to be grateful,” Dean said. “You wanted the Mark gone, and it’s gone.”

“And you ought to remember what I promised you. That I would show you that I never should’ve had it in the first place.”

“Hilariously enough, we’re not here about the Mark,” Gabriel said.

Cain tipped his head slowly, deliberately. It reminded Dean of a snake poised to strike. “Oh?”

“You told us you didn’t want to get involved in the apocalypse. You lied.”

Cain began to smile at Dean, and it made Dean want to punch him. “I’m a demon. As you pointed out so succinctly the last time you were here, that’s what I do.”

“Why?” Castiel said, speaking up at last. Cain moved his gaze over to him and while Castiel held his ground, Dean flared his wings in warning, as did Sam. _Back off_ couldn’t have been said any louder.

Cain just raised an eyebrow at their defensive posture. The black cloud rolled angrily around him. “Why what?”

“Why get involved?”

“Why not?”

“Cut the crap, Cain,” Gabriel snapped. “You’re only reminding us of what a waste of space you are. A particularly _useless_ one at the moment, since you don’t need to bear the Mark anymore.”

That got a reaction, much as Gabriel had probably intended. Cain shot to his feet, lips curling into a snarl. “As if I was going to stand by and wait while Heaven made another mess of things, another mess they would use to punish me. As much as I’m not a fan of Lucifer, I could’ve easily dealt with him and Hell. Heaven was a whole other beast. And the prophecy gave a fifty-fifty chance to either side.”

There it was, the prophecy again. “And where did the prophecy come from?”

“Heaven, of course,” Cain said with a sneer. “Where else do any of these things come from? Your little winged friend Zachariah came to tell me, said when Lucifer came to call that I was to stay out of it. If I did, I’d earn myself freedom.”

Dean stared. There was only one thing that Cain had wanted freedom from. And Zachariah had promised it to him? But how in the hell would Zachariah have been able to do it?

It made a lot more sense that Cain had suddenly decided he wasn’t going to get in the game. Not because he hadn’t wanted to, but because he’d had a prize waiting for him if he sat it out until the big fight was over.

“And you believed him?” Gabriel said incredulously. “That Mark wasn’t on your arm as a cool tattoo, bucko. It was there to keep something very bad from getting out.”

“He didn’t seem too concerned,” Cain said. “Not as concerned as you currently ought to be.”

Dean’s wings went up, and his hand tightened around his blade. “You killed my princes,” Cain snarled. “Asmodeus I had no time for, and Azazel was his own, but Ramiel and Dagon were on my side. And you snuffed them out.”

Shit. Guess they hadn’t beaten that news after all. “Hell needs a real ruler,” Cain continued. “One that isn’t a half-breed like Crowley, one who understands what it means to be cursed, one who _thrives_ on the darkness, doesn’t shy from it. You’re no ruler,” he spat at Sam who stood impassively, face completely blank. “And I’ll send my knights after you to remove you from the Earth, you self-righteous bastard. No big brother necessary for this job.”

“I already killed Alastair,” Sam said, his eyes flaring red with Lucifer’s power. “Go ahead with the rest.”

Suddenly Cain swung his arm out, his speed nearly that of an angel’s, and with eyes as black as his soul he knocked them all back before Dean could so much as get his feet beneath him. He pulled something out from behind him, something shiny and familiar, and even as Dean realized, stunned, that it was an angel blade, even as Dean swung forward with his own, Cain slashed out at Sidria. She gasped in pain and stumbled further away, her Grace flashing.

Cain swung the blade around to aim the tip down straight at Sidria’s chest, then slammed his arm down. Before he could connect with her, Lucifer was there, pushing her out of the way of the blade. The blade landed home into his back and part of one wing, and Lucifer cried out.

He didn’t even feel when his wings moved, he didn’t even feel when his blade came up and caught Cain across the face. Cain just took the blow and grinned, blood coating his teeth. Castiel came up from behind him and Cain blocked his blow with ease, deftly managing the seraph.

He wouldn’t manage an archangel at the same time, too. Michael brought his blade around in a hard swing, slamming into Cain’s arm. The blackness lit up like a firework as Cain screamed, dropping the blade. Michael yanked it out and ducked Cain’s clumsy swing with his good arm, then kicked his knee in. Cain fell to the ground, bad knee sprawled off to the side, hair hanging across his face.

Castiel moved forward, panting heavily, but Michael waved him off. This was his. And Cain wasn’t going anywhere ever again.

A low laugh began, filling the room. It had a slight gurgle to it, and when Cain raised his head, blood spilling down his chin, it was evident why. “What’s so funny?” Castiel snapped.

“You, all of you,” Cain said, still laughing. “So self-righteous, as if you’re better than the other side of things. But you’re not. You’re just as tainted. You and I are so alike, Michael.”

Michael leaned in, eyes blazing green. “We are _nothing_ alike,” he seethed. “You sought darkness, wrapped yourself in it. I choose the light. You chose to kill your little brother, the person who should have been safest with you.”

“And you’ll do the same,” Cain said, and in his eyes was a dark promise. “You think you can wipe away the years you spent in Hell? We were always going to end up here, you and I. And you will end up here again, with Lucifer before you next time. You’ll kill him just as I killed my little brother. It is ordained by God Himself.”

Michael stared at him for a long moment. Then he raised his blade. “Fuck you,” he said, and he swung out at Cain’s neck.

The whole room fell silent. Even Cain’s body barely made a sound as it hit the ground, and the blackness burned away as if it had never existed. Michael stood, blade tight in his fist, hand trembling.

It was Gabriel who broke the silence by clearing his throat, pulling Michael’s attention from the macabre vision before him. Apparently he’d decided his time was better spent staying as guard and nurse to Sidria and Lucifer, and Michael was so stupidly grateful that they’d taken the numbers they had. None of them had been prepared for Cain.

“Michael.”

He pulled himself together as best he could and turned all his attention to Gabriel, who was making a face. “Luce and Sidria need help. Sooner rather than later. Neither look too serious but Raph’s gonna want to see them anyway.”

It was more than he could deal with. It was as if he were watching the scene from outside of himself, his thoughts too tumultuous to pull together. He felt out of control and too full of violence, like when he had been in Hell, like when he’d been the loyal soldier of Heaven. That was the being who could’ve easily torn his little brother apart without batting an eye. If things were different, of course, that would be the case, but how different? Where was the line that kept him from killing the person he loved above all others? If Heaven said it was going to happen, and he felt so dizzy, awash in rage and fear, the horrible image of him cutting Lucifer (Sam Sammy _Luce_ ) down racing through his mind, then how was he supposed to stop it?

A hand rested on his arm, and he spun, blade nearly coming up to strike, to defend, to…to…

And then he froze, because it was his little brother, blood trailing from Cain’s wound and looking pained, but not an ounce of fear filled his face or rippled through his Grace. Lucifer met his gaze evenly and with so much love that he didn’t deserve, and it made him want to weep.

“Dean,” he said quietly, and then there were memories being shared of the man he’d been after Hell, the one who’d stuck by Sam through it all, through learning about Adam and the heartbreak that had followed, the one who’d fought to stay by Sam’s side in the chapel that night when the Cage had opened. In his brother’s memories, he stood, a man filled with so much love that he could forgive his little brother for drinking demon blood and almost starting the end of the world.

It was Sam who smiled before him, and his Grace matched the warmth in his eyes. “That’s not a guy I’m afraid of,” he said. “Not ever.”

“Sammy,” he choked out, and then he couldn’t find the words. His Grace begged for mercy, and Lucifer’s Grace rose to meet him, filled with so much damn love and trust that it made his eyes burn.

It was when Lucifer moved his wing to brush against Michael’s that he hissed, and Sam took a step backwards. The injury he’d taken for Sidria. “C’mon,” Dean said roughly, blinking the emotions away. He couldn’t, not, not now. Not with his little brother injured, with another angel possibly seriously wounded. “We gotta get you two back to Raphael.”

“I’ll heal on my own,” Sidria insisted, but Dean noted how she leaned heavily on Gabriel and Castiel. “Raphael has enough to do-“

“Raphael will be pissed if we don’t take you to him to heal,” Sam told her. He flinched a little when he turned, and now that Dean could see it, it wasn’t as bad as he’d first feared, but still enough that he’d be moving gingerly, and Dean was going to need to help fly him back to Bobby’s. “And probably not too thrilled with me either,” Sam admitted with a wry, pained grin.

“Let’s get out of here,” Gabriel said, and they headed for the door. “We’ll have better clearance outside of the wards in the house to take off.”

Sam moved after them, his blade still in hand, still willing to defend even while wounded. Dean began to follow, but something pulled him back. He found himself turning to view the corpse, Cain’s blood still pouring out to stain the floor.

_And you will end up here again, with Lucifer before you next time. You’ll kill him just as I killed my little brother._

“I won’t,” he said, and he tried to sound more determined than he felt. “I _won’t_.”

The words echoed around him, hollow-sounding in the empty house. He turned and left, following the others out into the sunshine.


	18. Chapter 18

Bobby’s house was usually quiet. There was the contemplative quiet as they mulled over things, the studious quiet that included the sipping of coffee (and usually stronger stuff) with the turning of pages. There was the rare relaxed quiet where they had nothing to do and could read books, work on cars, or just sit on the porch with a cold one.

But now his house was filled with all sorts of sounds, people talking, moving around, in motion. With so many more people involved with things now, there was a constant flurry of noise that Sam hadn’t noticed until it had gone quiet again. Except this wasn’t a quiet he enjoyed.

No, this was the quiet that had settled on the house after Dad had died, the quiet that had invaded after he’d buried Dean and couldn’t stand being there anymore. It was tense and ugly and he hated it.

This time, no one had died. No one they cared about. But the silence was still oppressive.

Across the room sat Dean, hunched over on the sofa. His wings were tucked behind him, as still as the rest of him. He didn’t speak, didn’t say anything, and he’d managed to block them out fairly well. Gabriel and Raphael had tried to nudge their Grace against his, aim thoughts towards him, and Dean had just smiled tightly and said he was fine. But his Grace remained coiled, dim in a way that it never should be.

The only thing that had let Dean’s Grace look soothed at all had been Raphael tending to Sam’s wound, so Sam had let Raphael fuss and mend and even deftly loan a small amount of Grace to Sam. Even though he hadn’t needed it, Raphael had needed to do it more, and it had let Dean settle, so Sam had just swallowed back the sigh and let it happen. He got it.

According to Ezekiel, Sidria was fine in Heaven with Anael. Naomi still hadn’t awakened, but Ezekiel would stay down on Earth to help protect everyone. He'd landed not too long ago with very little sound and given his update. Then he’d immediately gravitated over towards the Harvelles.

“I think he’s taken a liking to Jo,” Raphael had mused quietly. Even Dean’s lips had turned up a bit at that.

There hadn’t been much other good news beyond that. Ellen and Bobby had tried to tag team and call as many hunters as they could, spreading the news about a rogue hunter who had a vendetta against Sam, and they’d managed to make some success. Others had been suspicious and wondered why Ellen had called them to tell them, why Bobby had always defended the Winchesters. Still, they’d done their best, and that was all they could take at the time.

They weren’t going into Cain. As much as Sam was glad he was dead, as almost viciously glad about that as Gabriel felt, none of them wanted to look too closely to his words. That the mandate had come from Heaven, and that Cain was just as determined as the others to see Heaven’s will be done. For Dean to kill Sam, or Sam to kill Dean.

It was time to start looking at Joshua and talking to him.

Sam glanced over at his brother again. Bobby had mentioned burgers, which was one of Dean’s favorite meals, hands down, and Ellen had even offered to make some potato wedges, another thing that she’d provided at the Roadhouse that Dean had fallen in love with. Clearly, Sam wasn’t the only one who saw Dean’s despair and was trying to make it better.

He knew what was eating at Dean and why. He knew Cain’s words had shaken his brother, and the thoughts that had tumbled through Dean’s head after Cain’s death had been frightening. Not making Sam afraid of his brother, but making him fear _for_ Dean. Hell had passed in fragments, Michael’s time as a loyal Heavenly soldier, thoughts of hurting Sam, of killing Lucifer, all of it lightning fast with a terror that had rattled all of them. Sam had managed to get through to Dean, he thought, had managed to settle Dean long enough to get them back to Bobby’s.

He pursed his lips and sought to find something that would matter to Dean. He’d left his big brother alone, hadn’t pushed through that bubble of isolation that Dean had erected, but screw it. He didn’t want Dean to wallow any more than he currently was. And with everyone else in the kitchen helping with dinner, he was taking the opportunity now.

First up was a memory he knew would get Dean’s attention: Sam pushing the gun into Dean’s hand, demanding that Dean kill him. Dean inhaled sharply and looked up at Sam for the first time in what felt like hours. Dean’s words echoed between them. _I can’t. I’d rather die._

He hadn’t known that Sam was possessed but it hadn’t mattered. He’d never hurt Sam, and Sam knew it. Well. Knew it now.

The voicemail had thrown him for a loop, a bad one, but that entire time had been bad. And what had made it all the more believable was that he’d deserved it, and he’d known it. Even then, however, Dean had sat him down, insisted time and time again that he would never hurt Sam. And when it had come down to Zachariah, all of his sins laid bare and worthy of judgment, none of them had mattered to Dean, to Michael, as much as that voicemail. _You made him doubt me. You made him fear me, you son of a bitch._

Dean’s eyes were starting to take on a shimmer. _Sammy-_

The lines between them fully open now, Sam shot everything he had past him. Playing pranks on each other, sharing beers beneath a starry night sky, driving in the Impala, Dean protecting Sam as much as Sam protected Dean. Then it was Michael protecting a downed Lucifer from some threat, flying through the skies together, Michael standing beside him, holding hands through the Cage. _I’ll Fall, too._

One tear, two, and Dean jutted his chin out to try and keep the rest from falling. _I’m here, big brother,_ Sam sent, smiling as brightly as he could. _And there’s nothing you could do to change that._ _We go together, remember? We always go together._ _I learned that from the best.  
_

Dean finally huffed a wet laugh and wiped at his face. When he met Sam’s gaze again, he gave an indulgent smile. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Dean said, but his Grace wasn’t shuttered and dim anymore. From the kitchen, it was actually Castiel’s Grace that came flying in, brushing against Dean’s to embrace him, and Dean shook his head, looking amused now. “All right, all right, I got it. Ease up, Cas.”

_I’m sorry we love you, how tragic for you,_ came Gabriel next, deadpanned but full of relief, and Sam’s smile grew. Raphael, while not as swift or snarky as the first two, sent a wave of warmth over them all, and Dean shut his eyes. It was more than he thought he deserved, Sam was sure, which was why he’d denied the others entry earlier.

Not Sam, though. He’d never deny Sam.

“Dean, you want to man the grill?” Bobby called, as if knowing it was safe to speak up.

Anything Dean could’ve replied with was suddenly cut off with the feeling of _wrong_ that brushed against the wards outside. Sam was on his feet before he even knew it, and Dean raced towards the door, Sam right on his heels.

They beat the others outside but just barely, and Sam wasn’t at all surprised to see Bobby wielding the Colt straight at the danger ahead of them.

What he _was_ surprised to see was Crowley, standing just outside the gates of the junkyard. He brushed imaginary dust off of his suit and looked up at them all, then made a face. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have given you the gun back if I’d known it was going to be used against me,” he drawled. “Aim it elsewhere, if you please.”

Bobby didn’t move his aim. “There a particular reason you’re here?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Rumor is that Cain’s been quelled,” Crowley said. “But I doubt that’s a surprise to you. And now there are no Princes left to try and claim the throne to Hell, either. Which means it’s prime time for us to come out of witness protection and seize what’s rightfully-“

“Not rightfully,” Sam pointed out, and Crowley made a face at being both interrupted as well as the truth of that statement.

“-fine, what _should_ be rightfully mine. I’d like what I’ve been promised. I gave you the objects of your fondest desire, from gun to little brothers. The throne, Michael.”

“And it’ll be yours as soon as I’m done dealing with the crisis in Heaven,” Dean said. He pursed his lips. “You taking the throne right now isn’t going to make my life any easier or help me, so come back later. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

Crowley actually smiled, slow and dangerous. “As it so happens, I may be able to help with that,” he said. “I have a witness for you.”

He snapped his fingers, and suddenly Meg stood before them. She glanced at the Colt and rolled her eyes. “And I’m here why?” she snapped.

“To be useful,” Crowley said. “And remember our deal. You _want_ to be useful, if I recall.”

Sam watched as Meg’s demon inkiness rolled in obvious discomfort, but she was keeping it off of her face. Instead she turned to Castiel, a coy grin on her face. “Hello, Clarence,” she purred. “Ready to perch?”

“I am not a bird,” Castiel said, irritated. “Please stop referring to me as one.”

“I don’t know, sounds like you’ve got talons to me.”

“Meg,” Sam called sharply, and she whipped her head over to him as if she couldn’t help but listen. She probably would’ve been very pleased with Lucifer taking the throne to Hell, because she actually looked happy to see him.

With a sigh Meg crossed her arms and began to tap her foot. “All right, fine. I overheard a lot of what was going on with Asmodeus. I tried to make myself helpful to him; he had a temper if you didn’t do as he was asked. I did what I could.”

A memory floated through his mind, of watching Meg clean himself up, and Sam realized with a start it was _Gabriel’s_ memory from their stint in Hell. “You helped us,” he breathed.

Meg shifted uncomfortably. “I did what I could,” she repeated again. Clearly, she hadn’t wanted her kindness revealed. “Anyway, Asmodeus wanted me to set up a scrying call to Ramiel.”

That got all of their attention. “Asmodeus talked to Ramiel?” Raphael asked.

Meg nodded. “Yeah. Juiced up on archangel Grace, he wasn’t nearly as high-strung as Ramiel. Ramiel was demanding demons to prepare for war, but Asmodeus wasn’t worried about it. They…” She pursed her lips. “They talked about Abaddon. Ramiel said she couldn’t stave off archangels by herself, especially without Alastair around. Asmodeus said it wasn’t a big deal, since he had half of the set taken care of.”

Yeah, he’d had two of four all right. The quiet of that room had left him going mad, his attempts to get Gabriel to just say something, _anything_ , an unpleasant memory now that he’d just as soon rather ignore. He shoved it down as fast as he could before his brothers could get a twinge of it, but when Dean’s head snapped towards him, he knew he hadn’t exactly been fast enough.

Thankfully, Ellen jumped in. “Who’s Abaddon?”

“A knight of Hell,” Crowley told her. “She answered to Cain primarily. She also hasn’t been seen for centuries. Thus why I thought you might want to know. That and the next bit; it made me want some popcorn.”

“Next bit?” Castiel asked.

“Ramiel mentioned some ‘angel ass’ that he’d been dealing with,” Meg told them. She brushed her dark and curly hair over her shoulder as if it were hers and not some poor woman’s. Not that Sam could see a soul anywhere inside that darkness: it looked to be an empty shell, thankfully, which was far more than he’d expected from Meg. “Said the angel had been adamant that the archangels were dangerous, that the angel’s boss warned them to be wary when dealing with Michael since he was a ‘loose cannon’. They talked about the big honcho looking forward to breaking that free will out of him.”

Sam all but choked on his next breath. Zachariah was the angel ass, no doubt about it, but the boss had to either be Joshua…or Father. There were no other options that had that sort of power, to break an archangel. Zachariah might have had puppets of his own, but he hadn’t been the main puppeteer.

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Not that I’m not thankful for the information because I am, but why tell us?”

“Because I want the throne,” Crowley said firmly. “And I figured there was going to be a problem of getting it until Heaven’s nonsense was dealt with. I figured you’d appreciate the knowledge.”

He’d wanted to gain favor with them, too, Sam realized. His mind went back to Crowley handing the Colt over to Dean several months ago, urging him to remember who it was who’d helped him out. Crowley was definitely the King of the Crossroads: trading favors and making deals to get what he wanted.

“What about Abaddon?” Castiel asked. “She’s a powerful enemy, and if she’s involved-“

“Then she’s your problem,” Crowley said. “Lucifer made her, after all.”

Meg snorted. “No he didn’t.”

Sam let himself take a breath. The truth was that any memories with Abaddon weren’t surfacing, and the idea that he’d created yet another demon that had wreaked havoc on people and the Earth was almost more than he could stomach. His memory still had missing pieces from what the Cage had taken from him. “It’s a myth they made up, Abaddon and Alastair,” Meg continued, and she almost looked…kind, her gaze turning soft when she glanced at Sam. Like she knew. “They wanted to make themselves more important in the eyes of Hell. Being Lucifer’s creation would set them up on par with the Princes.”

“Then who did?” Dean asked. He didn’t sound surprised at all, and it reminded Sam that as much as he believed in his brother, Dean would always believe in him, too.

Sam knew the answer before Meg even spoke. “Cain,” he said, and Meg nodded again.

“Cain. With Lilith’s help. Dad never liked Abaddon. Always thought she was pompous, said she wasn’t really beloved by Lucifer the way he was.”

Yellow eyes filled his memory, the fond way that Azazel had looked at him that day in Cold Oak before he’d died, and he fought the urge to shudder. Dean’s Grace lurched back as if stung, and oh. Yeah, all right, that wasn’t a happy memory for anyone. Sometimes it still felt like his back ached, a phantom pain of being stabbed.

_You’ve never told me that._

Sam fought the urge to squirm under the heavy gaze of his brother. _I didn’t want you to worry._

A snort from Gabriel. _As if he was going to stop doing that. Seriously, Samshine. Just tell us._

_I’ll try to recall everything that’s ever bothered me and lay it all out for you, in that case,_ he thought, letting sarcasm drift through their thoughts, and Raphael coughed to hide a grin. Dean just rolled his eyes, but he didn’t have that edge of worry and pain to his Grace, so Sam would take what he could.

“I don’t need more demons makin’ trouble,” Bobby pointed out. “How likely is it that Abaddon’s gonna try and turn the world upside down like the Princes did?”

“Hard to say, but we do have bigger fish to fry, as my brother’s so fond of saying,” Raphael said. “Heaven is the immediate danger here. It’s been behind everything, demons and angels alike trying to force the end of the world.”

“It’s bad enough that everyone just seems to be doing that anyway without nudging,” Dean said angrily. “It’s like following a bad script at this point. And I’m sick of them doing it. If Abaddon’s going to try her hand at it, I need that stopped.”

“Which would be far easier to do IF there’s a presiding ruler of Hell,” Crowley shot at him. “You gave your word, Michael. And you owe me.”

Dean pursed his lips but finally inclined his head. “All right, fine. We’ll do it now. But you need to help us deal with Abaddon.”

Crowley smiled, showing a great deal of teeth. “My pleasure. Believe me.”

Movement caught Sam’s eye. Meg shifted away from Crowley, arms still crossed but hands holding her arms. She looked…small. “What about you?” Sam asked her.

Before she could respond, Crowley answered for her. “She’s going nowhere near my throne,” the demon said. “I don’t trust her.”

“As well you shouldn’t,” Meg countered, but her grin was empty. She was being tossed out of her home, and Sam…actually understood that. She’d spent time in his skin, after all. He got it. Her sibling was dead, her dad was toast. And now she was being kicked out of Hell, the safest place for a demon to be.

Boy did he get it.

“Call me if you need help,” Sam told her quietly. She blinked at him, mouth dropping open in stunned silence, and Sam could feel the surprise and shock from everyone else around him. Except Dean – Dean didn’t feel as surprised as everyone else. Sam rolled his shoulders back and fixed her with a mild glare. “Otherwise, stay out of trouble and other people’s skins.”

“Please,” Jo added, glaring at the demon with a snarl. That, Sam didn’t blame her for.

Meg finally found her voice, but it was soft, softer than Sam had ever heard her speak before. “As much as I can.” The darkness coiled tight around her, ready for her departure, but right before she disappeared, she couldn’t help blow a kiss at Castiel. She disappeared a moment later, leaving Castiel pursing his lips and scowling at thin air.

Dean crossed over to Crowley, and by the time he got to the demon, it was all Michael, wings thrown back behind him, standing tall and strong. Crowley hunched over a little but resolutely pushed his own shoulders back to meet him. Sam’s lips turned up a little. As far as rulers of Hell went, Crowley wasn’t a bad choice.

Michael held his hand out and graciously shook Crowley’s hand, dark meeting light in unity. “With all the power of Heaven, I convey rulership of Hell to thee, Crowley, formerly King of the Crossroads,” Michael said, his True Voice ringing just enough to make the glass around them start to sing. “I bless your ascension to the throne and acknowledge your place as King of Hell, along with your agreement to reopen the transfer lines between our kingdom and yours. May your time on the throne be concurrent with your faithfulness to your kingdom.”

Crowley took his hand back and shook it out a little. “Did you have to include a blessing?” he complained, making a face. “It makes me itch.”

Still, there was something else in the darkness, a swell of power that hadn’t been there before, and when Crowley blinked, his eyes went from inky black to blood red and then back to normal once more. It was done, for better or worse.

Jo gave a slow shake of her head. "I am never going to get used to Dean being an archangel," she said.

“You’re going to reopen the transfer lines?” Gabriel asked, surprised. “Seriously?”

“All the more reason to get Heaven back under control,” Michael said. “Everything worked better with those lines.”

“I assume they’re important to Heaven and Hell,” Ellen said, a question in her voice.

“They keep communication open between us and the Holier Than Thous,” Crowley told her. “It’s also easy to send souls back and forth as necessary. Sometimes souls don’t belong where they wound up. It’s better for everyone that way. In your instance, should you ever stray downward, I’d be able to send your loveliness upward.”

“I’m going to be ill,” Jo muttered, and Ezekiel took another step towards her. Ellen just rolled her eyes and Bobby actually cocked the Colt, looking nine types of irritated at Crowley.

Crowley just grinned. “I’ll have the beginnings of the line set up for you to look over next week. A spot inspection, if you will. Provided the world doesn’t end before then, or you kill your brother first.”

The growl that resonated through the air was all Dean. Crowley didn’t look impressed. “Contrary to popular belief, I’d rather the both of you stay alive. I was under the impression that Lucifer would be far more overbearing, more…tyrannical. That’s not the vibe I get from the Moose. More puppy than anything else.”

Sam clenched his hands into fists. “Touch my brother and see how puppy I am,” he threatened.

Crowley grinned again, looking amused, but he disappeared a moment later. “Smart decision,” Castiel muttered under his breath.

With the demons gone, Bobby finally lowered the Colt. “If anyone’s still the least bit hungry, I got burgers to grill.”

Meg’s conversation spun through his head on repeat, Ramiel’s concern about Zachariah’s boss making his skin crawl. If it wasn’t Joshua, then…then it had to be...

But he didn’t want it to be Joshua, either. This just didn’t sound like Joshua. This felt more like Father than Joshua.

Who else could it be, though? Who else could it possibly be?

It was Dean who caught Sam’s arm and tugged at him. “C’mon, Sammy. Let’s at least eat something before everything goes to Hell again.” With no better plan than that for the time being, Sam followed after his brothers and headed back to the house, his mind still spinning.

“I think I need to find God.”

Sam choked on his beer. Beside him, Dean was making similar noises. “I’m sorry, come again?” Gabriel asked incredulously.

Castiel sighed and looked off into the darkening sky. The sun began to sink off to the side of the porch, blood red and angry looking. Sam was taking it as a very bad omen. “I said, I think I need to find God. If God isn’t behind this, then it serves to reason that he can still make it right.”

“We don’t know if Father’s behind this,” Raphael said, with extreme hesitance in his voice. “Castiel, little one, you could be stepping into greater danger.”

“I have to try,” Castiel said, stubborn to a fault. Dean began to speak but Castiel cut him off. “No, listen to me. I have to have faith in _something_. I have to believe that God’s not behind this.”

“Then he’s fucked off somewhere and doesn’t care,” Gabriel said, anger in his voice. Sam brushed his Grace against him, a shoulder nudge, and Gabriel acknowledged it but it didn’t lessen his anger any. “You’re wasting time, Cassie. No, what you should do is come with us, try to find Abaddon.”

“What we need to do is face down Joshua,” Raphael insisted. “It’s time. We can’t keep putting this off. If he’s truly behind this, we need to deal with it and now, before Abaddon is an issue at all. I can’t fight Heaven _and_ Hell at the same time, and while we have Hell mostly dealt with, if Crowley came at us now, we’d be ill equipped to handle him and this horrific prophecy at the same time.”

Sam took in a deep breath. Beside him, Dean said nothing, but his brother’s mind was going over tactical ideas, not lost in despair and hopelessness. Tactical was better. “Then let’s deal with Abaddon now," Sam said, gleaning through Dean's thoughts. "With our numbers, hell, with just a single one of us, we can find her and take care of this.”

“She won’t be sticking out in plain sight,” Castiel warned. “With the death of the Princes so well known now, she’ll go to ground. Finding her will take time and effort.”

“Then better for us to start now,” Gabriel said. “C’mon, now’s a good a time as any. Besides, I gotta fly that burger off.”

“’That’ burger?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean ‘those’ burgers? How many _did_ you eat, anyway?”

“Not as many as Cassie here.”

“I happen to like burgers,” Castiel said, looking fairly put out. “I don’t understand why that’s a problem.”

Burgers and bees: Castiel, Captain and Seraph. It made Sam grin. “Then let’s go find Abaddon.”

“I will stay,” Ezekiel said, speaking up for the first time. “I’ll keep them all safe and will call you if anything happens. Be well.”

Raphael, Gabriel, and Castiel headed into the yard and took flight. Dean prepped his wings and Sam did the same, not feeling any pain from where Cain had stabbed him (and how much Grace had Raphael given him, anyway?) and began to fly after his brothers-

Then stopped. He dropped back to Bobby’s yard, uncertainty weighing heavily on him.

Without hesitation Dean dropped the few feet he’d risen and headed over to his brother. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s nothing,” Sam insisted, trying to assure himself of it, but it just wasn’t sinking in. Raphael and Gabriel were already well out of sight, and he gathered his wings to follow after them.

“Hey,” and Dean caught hold of his shoulder. “Talk to me,” he said gently. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Sammy?”

Sam took a deep breath in. “You know how you knew that it couldn’t really be Raphael behind all of this? You just, you knew, even when we literally faced Raphael down?”

Dean just waited. Always patient when it came to Sam, always ready to let Sam come down on his own, to get it all out, and Sam wondered again how the hell his brother could think that he’d ever fear Dean. That Dean would ever try to hurt him.

“Sam,” Dean said, pulling his attention back, and Sam shook his head to clear it.

“I feel the same way about Joshua. I just…I don’t think it’s him. And I don’t want to storm the Garden, all of us, like this. I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”

“Me too,” Dean confessed, and there was stark relief on his brother’s face. “Just…not the easiest thing to suggest when the only alternative is Father, y’know?”

“Your intuition matters, though,” Sam said. “I’ve lived by that intuition my whole life. If I’d listened to that intuition about Ruby-“

“And if I’d listened to yours about the angels, look, I get it. I trust you, Sammy. I trust you as Lucifer, too.” Dean made a face. “But the fact still remains that Joshua’s our best bet at figuring this bullshit mess out.”

Sam waited. Dean’s thoughts were a tumultuous mess, bouncing back and forth, dancing around the solid idea that Sam could see was already formed.

“’Tumultuous’? Seriously?” Dean muttered. “Where do you _get_ these words? And my thoughts are not a mess, thank you very much. I’m highly organized.”

“So spit it out then,” Sam said. “Just say it.”

Dean squared his shoulders then, and it was Michael in his confident answer. “So let’s go.”

Lucifer’s memory drew him a vivid map to the Garden, and he was grateful that in all the memories he’d lost, he hadn’t lost that one. He knew exactly where to go, and he took off in the opposite direction of his other brothers, side by side with Michael as they headed to Heaven. The Garden sat away from everything else, a quiet space away from the souls that resided in Heaven, away from the angels and their business. This was a holy and sacred place.

This was Father’s place, where he could walk freely with his children and with Joshua, where he could just be.

They landed just outside the doors. They looked…different than he remembered, and for a moment, Lucifer was terrified that he’d forgotten more than he’d thought. It was stupid, a small thing, but if he’d forgotten what the doors looked like-

“They change,” Michael said, nudging him physically with his shoulder. “But I know what these are. Or really, _when_ these were.”

He caught the handle of the door and Lucifer stopped him before they could enter. “Your lance,” he said. “No weapons in the Garden.”

Michael gave a quick grin. “And you thought you’d forgotten everything.” He set the lance beside the door and pulled it open for them. And suddenly, Lucifer knew exactly where they were. Or _when_ , as Michael had so specifically stated.

A perfect afternoon, just two brothers on a field trip, Dean acting as chaperone. The botanical gardens hadn’t really enthused Dean much but spending time with Sam had been worth it. They’d wandered around, trying to read the Latin names and making jokes with each other and it had been the best day ever. One of Sam’s best memories, and it was here, in living color again, like they’d stepped back several years.

“I am grateful that you’re sharing the memory with me. It looks as if it was a perfect afternoon.”

Lucifer glanced ahead. There, waiting for them in the middle of the path, stood Joshua. He hadn’t changed, with his older persona barely hiding the green and yellow glow that was his own Grace. He looked as if he were dressed to tend to a botanical garden, an apron covering a button up shirt and khakis.

Joshua regarded them both, and then he smiled, and his Grace brightened. “I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am to see you both united once more. How happy I am to see you both together and _happy_. It’s more than I could have hoped for, over the years.”

He gestured to the side, where a wooden bench sat. “Come sit with me,” he said. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s come to visit me. Everyone’s far too busy these days, and I have missed having company. But I have especially missed your company.”

Lucifer moved forward slowly, Michael by his side. If this was a trap, it was an odd one. But it didn’t feel like one, and Joshua was the same as Lucifer remembered him: warm and inviting, soft and kind. The gardener waited for them on the bench, and Lucifer sat down beside him. Joshua’s smile broadened all the more. “I am not the only one who has missed you, both of you,” Joshua said quietly. “Heaven has sorely missed you both.”

“We’ve missed it,” Lucifer admitted. Joshua reached out and took his hand, patting it, and Lucifer smiled. “And we’ve missed you, too. We didn’t realize you were so lonely.”

“It has been some time since I’ve had visitors, I’ll admit,” Joshua said. “I’ve been plenty busy here in the Garden. But I’m grateful to see someone. The Garden, too, is grateful to see you both. Your Graces bring desperately needed light to all of Heaven, and to my flowers here, too.”

“Well, that sort of goes against the prophecy,” Michael said bluntly. He hadn’t taken a seat and stood beside Lucifer instead, always ready to defend. His wing brushed against Lucifer’s and Lucifer met his half embrace. United front, always. “I mean, one of us supposed to kill the other? That doesn’t sound like Heaven’s missed us, or that the Garden needs us.”

Joshua’s smile fell, and he pulled his hand back from Lucifer. Lucifer tensed, hoping and praying he hadn’t gotten this wrong. _Please, Joshua, not you. Please not you._

Slowly the gardener rose and crossed to the other side of the path, where a bright bush of flowers waited. He seemed thoughtful, as if trying to find the right words.

Michael wasn’t one for waiting. “Well?” he asked. “What do you know about the prophecy? Because if Father handed it down, I want to know why. And he would’ve told you. Unless you came up with it.”

“God does speak with me,” Joshua said. “Or used to. I haven’t heard his voice in a long, long time. And I do not speak prophecy on my own. I am not he.”

“Joshua, please,” Lucifer pleaded. Michael’s wing tightened around him and Lucifer couldn’t sit for a minute more. He rose, Michael following him. “We need to know. What do you know about the prophecy where we’re supposed to kill each other? Because I won’t, I…I _can’t_. And all of Heaven and Hell is fighting for us to take each other on and it’s the last thing either of us want to do. So if you know something…please. Just… _please_.”

Michael reached out and took his hand, tight and full of promise. _Not leaving you_. It bolstered him, but only so much. If it wasn’t Joshua, then…

“I know all of the prophecies,” Joshua said. He turned to the flowers he’d been tending to and gently ran his fingers over them. “I heard each one as God gave them to me.”

“So what gives with that one?” Michael said. It was clear that his brother was losing his patience. “I’m supposed to, what, kill Lucifer? How did Father manage to get that one in his head?”

“You misunderstand me,” Joshua said. Though his voice was as soft and calm as it ever was, his face reflected his unease. He finally turned from the flowers to face them both directly. “Michael, I have never, _ever_ , heard of that prophecy until recently, when your vessels were prepared for you both.”

Lucifer frowned. “What?”

The angel sighed and moved to sit back down on the nearby bench. “That prophecy was new. I had never heard of it before. I did not question it; perhaps I should have.” He glanced at Lucifer, sorrow in his eyes. “Forgive me,” he said softly. “I should have questioned many things, including the Cage. The Mark. Many things. It has never been in an angel’s nature to question, though. Only to obey in order to carry out God’s Will and his Word.”

“Yeah, well, when God starts locking up angels for his mistakes and commands his children to kill each other, we sort of have to question,” Michael said, but Lucifer barely heard him. Not over the noise in his head.

Because all the pieces had just fallen into place. And finally, for once, something made sense.

Michael straightened at that and glanced at Lucifer in surprise. “Wait, it does?” he asked out loud.

Not here. He couldn’t say it, not while they were in Heaven. “Joshua, we need to go,” he said. He paused right as he caught Michael’s sleeve, though, and gave the garden keeper a smile. “And you don’t owe me an apology. You did what you thought was best.”

Joshua slowly began to smile in return. “I have missed your light and your compassion,” he admitted. “I am so glad to see you returned.”

“Me too,” Michael said. He clasped Lucifer on the shoulder. “So what-“

In an instant Lucifer had them both out of Heaven and down to Earth, settling them inside the wards of Bobby’s junkyard. “Okay, _ow_ ,” Michael muttered, sounding every bit as petulant as Dean could be. “You mind telling me what the hell-“

_Gabriel, Raphael, Castiel,_ Lucifer called, and a moment later they were all gathered, though none of them looked happy to see them. “You wanna tell us where the hell you two flipped off to?” Gabriel said, anger being bolstered by worry. “You two asshats disappeared and let me tell you, that ain’t something I want-“

Then he went silent, staring at Lucifer. Raphael and Castiel watched him with the same sort of bewilderment and surprise, and Lucifer couldn’t figure out why until Michael rested a hand on his shoulder. “Easy, Luce,” he said. “Your wings are sort of flipping out. You want to tell us what you figured out?”

“Yeah,” said Lucifer. “I know who the prophecy came from. I know who’s behind all of this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big reveal!

Michael blinked. “Come again?” he managed at last when no one else seemed able to find the words. “You know who it is?”

“Where the hell did you two _go_?” Gabriel demanded. “I leave you alone for a few seconds and suddenly you’ve figured out the secret to life.”

“The Garden,” Michael said, figuring it was better to get that out of the way, and as expected, no one was happy about that. Gabriel in particular let out a string of expletives and it was a testament to how livid Raphael was that he didn’t correct him. “It’s not Joshua, okay?” he said after he’d let them get it out of their systems. “We knew it wasn’t. And we confirmed it for ourselves.”

“Then who is it?” Raphael asked once he looked to have gotten himself under control. Castiel’s wings were evidence of how angry he still was about it, and Michael could all but feel the fury and frustration pouring off of Gabriel. _Sorry,_ he sent out, but he’d trusted Lucifer and his brother’s gut intuition. And it looked to have paid off.

Except, well. It wasn’t like he himself knew who it really was.

He shrugged when Raphael still looked at him in askance. “I have no clue: all I know is that Lucifer suddenly dragged me back down to Earth at a _very_ high rate of speed and called you all.”

“So who?” Castiel asked, getting right to the heart of it.

Lucifer shook his head, all but vibrating in place. His wings kept twitching violently enough that he’d unbalance himself, and he’d nearly hit two of the cars balanced on piles around them. “Easy,” Michael cautioned again.

Finally his brother began to pace, and that helped some of the energy, but not all of it. “All right, seriously, talk to us,” Raphael said. “I’ve never seen you so agitated before. Who is it?”

A horrible thought came to mind, and Michael could barely ask it. “It’s not…it’s not really Father, is it?”

“What?” Lucifer said, sounding distracted, then he shook his head. “No, no, it’s not Father. It was never Father, that’s the whole _point_. I can’t believe I didn’t see this sooner.”

There were days that Michael was grateful that Lucifer could think three steps ahead of the rest of them. And then there were the moments after that where Lucifer being so far ahead was just absolutely the most _annoying_ thing in the universe. “Lucifer,” he said, trying to sound as firm as possible, “ _Who_?”

It seemed to catch Lucifer’s attention, at least. Sam had always had the irritating habit of getting lost in his own thoughts and now Michael knew where it had come from. Too much brain in him.

“Luce,” he said, cajoling now, and Lucifer clearly looked to be trying to settle himself enough to answer.

“This started way before you Fell. This had to have started as soon as Father left. Which meant I was in the Cage already. Gabriel was on Earth at that point. Raphael may have already undergone his first reeducation.”

“Asmodeus?” Gabriel asked quietly, and Lucifer shook his head. He did extend a wing towards Gabriel though, brushing against Gabriel’s cheek, and Gabriel managed a small smile.

“No. Asmodeus was only a part in it. Probably promised a bounty for it, too. He was never smart enough to be the mastermind; he was just a pawn, like Ramiel and Dagon. Like Zachariah and Naomi.

“But all of it started once the four of us were incapacitated, that’s my point. Without the four of us, it was easy to set in place a prophecy and give angels orders. They were desperate for direction and without Father, it was all too easy. And those who fought back-“

“Wound up reeducated,” Castiel murmured. He looked ill for a moment and Michael took hold of his shoulder. Castiel gave him a bright smile before continuing. “When your task force is brainwashed, getting what you want is easy.”

Well, that made sense. “Except us,” Michael said. “Whoever it was couldn’t plan on us.”

“Thus the prophecy,” Lucifer said with an eager nod. “The only four angels he couldn’t contain were us, and so he sent Asmodeus after Gabriel once he resurfaced, kept Raphael on a tight leash thanks to Zachariah and Naomi, and then put the prophecy into place to deal with us.”

He was talking a mile a minute again, and Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. “Luce, slow down,” he said. “So you’re saying that the prophecy wasn’t the end-all, be-all plan?”

“It never was,” Lucifer insisted. “It was just the last step to getting what he wanted.”

“What _who_ wanted?” Gabriel exclaimed. “Dad above, Lucifer, would you slow down for the idiots in the room?”

Lucifer was all but shaking again, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes flaring with his agitated Grace. Michael let out a sigh and tried to brush his wings against Lucifer’s. “Let’s start over,” he said as patiently as he could, since it didn’t seem like his little brother was going to spit out the answer anytime soon. “Go back to the prophecy. That’s the key here, right?”

“Yeah, but where did the prophecy come from?”

Raphael frowned, clearly trying to follow and not doing well. Michael had to admit that he was having a hard time keeping up with Lucifer, but that wasn’t a surprise. “The prophecy was ordained from on high,” Raphael began slowly. “Father must have decreed it.”

“No, Joshua said he’d never heard anything about it,” Lucifer said, shaking his head. “So where did the prophecy _come from_?”

If it hadn’t come from Father, then it had come from a source equally as trustworthy. “I didn’t come up with it,” Raphael said, apparently having followed Lucifer’s logic. “I would never-“

“Not you,” Lucifer said, impatience starting to become more obvious. “I told you, we were all incapacitated when this came into being. Who takes Father’s word and makes it the word with a capital W?”

“Joshua,” Gabriel said, before he frowned. “Right?”

“And does Joshua give it directly to everyone else?”

“No, that’s-“

Michael’s brain slid to a halt as fast as Raphael’s words did. The scribe, one of Father’s closest beings.

Metatron.

Gabriel’s eyes flared. “That little prick? He’s nothing! He’s just a writer and none of his ideas are original! He just dictates for Dad’s sake!”

Lucifer pursed his lips together. “If Father didn’t decree it, and Joshua never took it down, but it bears the mark of the Word-“

“It had to be Metatron,” Michael breathed. He glanced at Lucifer and shook his head. “How the hell did you put that together?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Lucifer blinked and actually reddened. “The one who’s always three steps ahead,” Gabriel said, pride evident in his tone. “This is what we keep you around for, kiddo.”

One eyebrow went up. “Watch who you’re calling kiddo, kiddo,” Lucifer told him.

Raphael suddenly inhaled sharply, and there was real fear on his face. “If it’s Metatron, then he won’t bide his time, like Joshua might. He’ll just, what, write Father’s Word into being in an instant? Which means-“

Which meant Heaven wasn’t safe. “Raph-“

Raphael was gone in an instant for Heaven. “Cas, go,” Michael ordered, and Castiel took off after him.

“The hell’s going on?”

Michael turned and found Bobby hurrying out onto the porch, lights coming on in the yard. “Dean! What’s goin’ on?”

“Get everyone down to the panic room,” he ordered. Lucifer startled a little at his tone, but Gabriel was already moving to the porch, motioning them all back inside.

“But what’s the rush?” Jo asked. “What’s going on? I mean, you’re all here, well, most of you-“

“Raph’s on a rescue mission to clear out Heaven of allies. We need to be safely inside. _Now_.”

They should’ve told everyone to get down to the panic room before but they’d been operating on a stupid assumption that they’d be fine, that they’d all be _fine_ , because it wasn’t like someone was going to write an ending and then force it to happen.

But Metatron was writing Father’s Word, which meant he could have who knew how much of Heaven at his disposal. They could undo all the reeducations they wanted: only a handful of angels would go against what they thought was God’s Word. And if that meant taking out a handful of humans for the greater good, or capturing all of the archangels for some supposed trial before God, then they’d do it.

This was more than a prophecy. This was bad with a capital B and if Metatron found out that they’d talked to Joshua-

They needed to be within wards, _now_.

He rushed up the stairs and hurried with the others down to the basement. He didn’t feel like he could breathe until Ezekiel, Jo, Ellen, and Bobby were all inside with him, with Gabriel hurrying in after them. The lights on made it look bright and cheery, a safe place, and he nodded to himself before heading back out to wait for Raphael.

Then froze. Gabriel breathed a quiet and pained, “ _Luce_ ,” and it was more than he could do.

Because there stood Sam on the other side of the panic room door, taking in big gulps of air but otherwise frozen in place. No, not completely frozen, and up close now, he could see the minute trembling that had taken over his brother, from his boots all the way up to his too-wide eyes. Even his _wings_ trembled, tucked behind him, hiding in fear. Cowering. His eyes were distant, seeing something else, and if he looked into his little brother’s thoughts, he was fairly certain he knew what he’d see.

Of all the things they had to do, this was something he’d never wanted to have to force Sam to do. “Sammy,” Dean called softly. Behind him, Bobby muttered a curse filled with sorrow and self-loathing. Bobby hadn’t really forgiven himself for leaving Sam alone in the panic room while he’d detoxed. Heaven above knew Dean still hadn’t forgiven himself, either. Especially after knowing about the Cage.

So it was in complete shock that Dean watched as Sam pushed his shoulders back, set his jaw, and put one foot into the panic room, then the other. Dean felt his mouth part, eyes wide, as Sam stepped inside. Gone was the quivering that had been there a minute before, and in their place was a very determined little brother.

Dean could feel himself bursting with pride and feeling heartache all at the same time: his typical combination when it came to Sam, to Lucifer. His little brother who could fight past anything because Dean asked him to. Because Michael called in need for him.

A flutter of wings and there was Raphael and Castiel, with Sidria and Anael beside them. In Raphael’s arms was Naomi, still unconscious. “I couldn’t leave her,” Raphael confessed wretchedly. “I, I couldn’t.”

“Get in here,” Dean urged, and they hurried inside. It was Sam who pushed the door shut and spun the lock, closing them in, and Castiel who rested a hand on Sam’s shoulder when he stood there for another moment, gathering himself.

All of them were here, safe and sound. Sidria looked to be in better shape than before, and while still unconscious, Naomi was currently being placed on one of the cots by Ellen and Bobby. All of his brothers were here, all of his very human and fragile family was here too. Was there anyone else to warn? Anyone else to call on?

Crowley was already on alert to some sort of trouble in Heaven, so that wouldn’t have to change. Meg could fend for herself; while Sam seemed to have a weak spot for the demon, or at least an edge of understanding, Dean remembered Sam after she’d possessed him, how his little brother had felt completely out of control. Sam had always been quick to forgive anyone except himself, even if they were a demon.

“Well…” Gabriel let out a long sigh. “Now what?”

“Can whoever’s behind this get inside?” Bobby asked. “You never even said _who_ it was.”

“And I didn’t want to until we were behind heavier wards. His name is Metatron,” Dean said. “He was God’s scribe. The courtroom reporter, honestly. He dictates what Father says. Except we’re pretty sure he’s decided that _he_ can do the writing and creative thinking all on his own.”

“Metatron?” Sidria said, stunned. “He, he’s God’s loyal writer! How could he do such a thing?”

“It’s not Joshua,” Sam told her. His voice was still soft and pained, but even though he grimaced looking around, he still remained standing tall. “And it’s not God. The only people left in the equation between God and the angels, the only ones with the authority to deliver the prophecy, would be Joshua or Metatron. And Joshua didn’t do it.”

Sidria didn’t seem to look as if she believed it. Anael and Ezekiel looked to have a hard time swallowing it too, but it was a testament to how much faith they had in Lucifer that they never once questioned it, only tried to figure it out in their own heads. Dean could relate.

“And again I ask, now what?” Bobby asked. “How do you take out God’s personal scribe?”

It would be harder yet easier than Joshua. Joshua was the more powerful of the two, but he was no fighter. Metatron had clearly proved he’d get his hands dirty to get what he wanted. If they could surprise him, though, if they could have the upper hand just once, they had a very good chance of getting to him before he could pull angels to his defense.

Because the timeline that Lucifer had drawn up was probably spot on. Metatron couldn’t take out archangels directly, but he could get them out of the way. And then Heaven would be his. Probably was aiming for Hell, too. Which meant he was going to have to tell Crowley after all.

No, no they wouldn’t. Because they were going to deal with Metatron well before that.

He reached past his blade for his lance, then stopped. The lance was gone. “What’s wrong?” Gabriel demanded when he began desperately pulling at his Grace. There was no familiar feeling of the lance anywhere.

“My lance is gone. I don’t know where the hell it is,” he said frantically. “I need it, it’s one of our best chances against Metatron.”

“Of course it is,” Gabriel exclaimed. “It’s one of Heaven’s most powerful weapons. What do you mean it’s _gone_?”

“I had it-“

And then he stopped. Because he’d set it outside the door of the Garden. No weapons allowed inside, and then they’d flown back here so fast he hadn’t gone to get it.

Sam groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Michael, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “It’s my fault-“

“No, it’s not, it’s fine,” Dean assured him. “You did what you needed to do. Just, don’t worry about it, I’ll be quick, in and out.”

Even before anyone else could move he was at the door, undoing the lock and stepping outside. In an instant he flew to the Garden, wings moving as fast as they could, and the minute he landed he swung his gaze around, rapidly seeking out another Grace. Nothing but the gentle hum of the Garden greeted him. His eyes began to quickly scan near the doors, seeking out the lance.

Another Grace suddenly appeared, but even as he turned, he knew that Grace, and he knew it far too well. “What the _fuck_ , Sam?” he hissed when his brother landed. Sam didn’t look upset anymore, he looked _pissed_ , and that was fine, because Dean was pissed at him too. “What are you doing here?”

“You think I’m going to, what, leave you alone up here?” Sam hissed back, voice barely above a whisper. “You told me we’re safer together, that we’ll always go together, and then you come up here on your own like an idiot? Fuck that. I’m staying with you. Let’s get the lance and _go_.”

Dean spun back to the doors and cast his eyes around for the weapon. The doors were clear and empty of any weapons. The lance was gone. “Where is it?” Sam asked.

Not anywhere Dean could see. He hurried to the doors anyway, just to get up close and feel with his hands, but the lance was nowhere to be found. Gone.

“Where _is_ it?” Dean snapped. “I am so _tired_ of this crap!”

“I’m a little tired of it myself. Let’s skip to the end of the book.”

Dean’s head whipped up in time to see a short, middle-aged looking man standing behind Sam, wiry hair sticking up in every direction. He looked harmless with his sweater and his heavier stance, but the power flowing off of him told Dean exactly who he really was. The man’s eyes flared white and even as Dean ran, wings extended, even as Sam turned, pulling out his blade, the man, _angel_ , caught hold of Sam’s wrist with one hand. The other hand reached out to the wall to where a bloody sigil waited.

“Goodbye, Michael,” Metatron called and the sigil went off. Dean felt it like a shotgun blast to the chest, ripping through every part of his Grace and sending him flying off through the cosmos. He thought he heard Sam scream his name but he couldn’t hear, couldn’t touch, couldn’t do anything except feel

_Pain_.

Fire crawled through his veins, and the rush of being thrown made his stomach churn. His Grace fought it with everything it had, but that only made it worse. _Father, help, please,_ he threw out, panicked, but no one answered. He shot through the air, skin burning, insides on fire, for eternity-

-and a few seconds later hit the ground hard enough to break nearly every single bone in his body. He coughed and tasted blood.

Earth. Somewhere. Nowhere he knew. The sky was dark, the night was silent.

And Sam wasn’t there with him. Which meant-

_Sam_ , he tried calling, but his Grace was weak and he could barely get the call sent out. He forced himself to try again. _Sammy! Luce!_

_Michael! MICHAEL! DE-!_

Silence. “No,” he choked out. “ _No_.”

Blackness encroached, and he desperately threw out one final cry for help before everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heard how much y'all liked cliffhangers from the last chapter: here, have another one!
> 
> ...Did I get that wrong?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, so it WASN'T another cliffhanger you wanted. Well, all right, I suppose I can try and fix that, then. Have another chapter.
> 
> Please do remember: I will make this better. Trust me.

When he came to, it was dark and cold. He tried to move but found every limb pinned, his wings frozen in place. For a horrific moment, he thought he was back in the Cage.

“Well, that _was_ the plan. And then you had to mess it up.”

Lucifer whipped his head over to where Metatron stood. For one who wanted to be so imposing, he didn’t look like anything except a bookish nerd. His scraggly hair seemed to go everywhere and he was in desperate need of a shower or three.

But the power was there in his eyes, almost radiating out of him.

“Where’s Michael?” Lucifer demanded.

Metatron rolled his eyes. “Somewhere. I don’t know. Down with his favorite humans. We’ll deal with him in a bit. I’d be more worried about yourself, personally.”

Lights came on, bright and almost cruel, and he blinked against them. When he could focus and see again, his entire Grace froze.

He was bound to a long chair, cuffs around his wrists and ankles, wings wrapped tight to the back, limbs pinned. The chair itself was nearly flat like a bed, elevated a few feet off the ground. The room was pristinely white and clean and felt like Heaven, _was_ Heaven.

The long drill-like needle hanging above him did not feel anything like Heaven ought to. The first stirrings of real fear began to pull at his insides.

“What do you want?” he asked. Anger, he needed anger here. _Michael, I’m in Heaven, come get me. Gabriel! Raphael!_

“They’re not going to hear you,” Metatron said. He shrugged. “No one will. Nothing gets in or out of the reeducation room.”

“So you’ll, what, make me forget? Like you did everyone else?” He fought against the restraints but they went nowhere. “You think you can do that to an archangel?”

“Not easily,” Metatron admitted. “But forgetting isn’t what I’m aiming for here.”

Lucifer went still. “You seem to not understand just what I’m trying to do here,” Metatron continued. “I mean, I had hoped if anyone would be smart enough to pick up on what I’d spent eons doing, it would be you, the smartest angel of them all.”

“You started that prophecy.”

“I did. And a host more, but that’s neither here nor there. That’s what God does, isn’t it? Spreads out prophecies to give folks hope.”

Lucifer frowned. “You’re not God,” he finally said. “You’re an angel, God’s scribe.”

“False. I _was_ the scribe. Now I’m the Word AND the scribe. God in every best way.”

“No one’s going to let you just take over being God-“

“Ah, but that’s the beauty because they have.” Metatron smiled before walking over to the chair. He patted Lucifer’s cheek condescendingly, then reached up for the needle. “They all did. Zachariah and Naomi were so easy to tug into line. Zachariah wanted to be an archangel so I let him think he _could_ be, and Naomi only wanted to do the will of God. Then poor Raphael wanted to just forget so…I let him. Gabriel _was_ dead, the little prick-“

“You stay away from him,” Lucifer growled, pulling at the restraints again.

Metatron just glared down at him. “And then you and Michael! You two nearly undid everything with that little stunt of yours! That prophecy was _perfect_ and then you two all but ruined it!”

Lucifer pulled up his best Dean smirk and Gabriel’s here-to-piss-you-off look. “Oh, I’m _sorry_ , we don’t follow orders all that well. Especially from half-rate losers like you.”

Metatron’s eyes flashed in anger, but then he took a deep breath and let it out in a short laugh. “Oh Lucifer. You know, I would’ve been all right with you winning the fight between you and Michael. I mean, I wanted Michael to win initially, he would’ve been far easier to subdue with his sworn loyalty to Heaven, but you would’ve been just fine, too.” He paused. “Then again, who’s to say you still won’t win?”

Ice coated Lucifer’s insides. “I’m not fighting my brother,” he swore. “You can’t make me.”

“Child,” Metatron said. “I’m God. I can do whatever I want.”

Lucifer started pulling at the restraints again. This wasn’t happening. Not now, not after everything. He wasn’t going to turn on Michael no matter what Metatron did. No matter what the reeducation did, and he watched as Metatron touched something on the needle, then stepped away. The needle began to hum and bore down towards his head like a dagger.

“Oh yes,” said Metatron, and Lucifer felt true fear course through his Grace as the needle continued to descend. “It wasn’t really part of my plan, but all roads lead back. I’ll make it work.”

Then the needle sunk in and Lucifer thought he screamed for Michael, Dean, Michael, _Dean_ -

Blackness came and pulled him down with it.

Michael came to with a huge gasp of air, making Gabriel jump back. “Easy,” Raphael urged, eyes wide and full of fear. “ _Easy_ , Michael.”

“Sam,” Michael choked out, scrambling to try and stand. “ _Lucifer_ -“

“Where is he?” Castiel asked. “He’s not here, where is he?”

Gabriel suddenly saw sharp and vivid memories pour through his brother’s mind, and fear stole his breath. No. _No_.

“Metatron,” Michael said, shaking. “Metatron took, he took Sam, he has Lucifer, that fucking son of a bitch took Luce-“

“Okay, easy,” Gabriel said. “Just take it easy.” Finding Michael in a bloody heap of broken bones hadn’t exactly been a picnic. Knowing why didn’t make it much better.

If it hadn’t been for Michael’s resounding cry through angel radio, they never would’ve known. But when the cry had come, full of pain and grief, Castiel had suddenly taken off, a mere second before Gabriel had. He’d beat the kid there but not by much – Cassie was getting fast.

Then Raphael had gotten there and done his healing. Then Michael had woken up.

Dammit, _Lucifer_. Metatron had his big brother.

“What do we do?” Raphael asked, and shit, if Raphael was asking that question, they were in serious trouble.

“We need to get back to the others,” Castiel determined, and thank Dad that someone else was taking charge because it didn’t need to be him. Not when he was nowhere near the responsible one.

Not when all he could think about was his Grace that was crying out for the big brother he might’ve lost again.

“Can you fly?” he managed to ask Michael, feeling numb. “We gotta get back to Singer’s. He’s already tried calling my phone six times and I don’t want to know what happens if he calls into the double digits.”

Michael didn’t reply to his glib comment. Michael didn’t respond to anything, only pulling himself to his feet at last. His wings trembled a moment, but he managed to get himself under control. He took off silently, Raphael beside him, and Castiel behind them. Gabriel took off then, trying to shake away the memory he’d seen of Metatron behind Sam. Metatron casting Dean out and as far away as he could.

Because then came the other memories, his own memories, of Sam the first time they’d met and how he’d reminded Gabriel so damn much of Lucifer that he’d nearly bawled. Of Sam begging him to come back after Death had told them there was nothing they could do to save Lucifer. The joy as they’d come together after so many years apart. Lucifer refusing to let Asmodeus hurt Gabriel. Flying through the sky together like they always did. Sam’s sweet smile and gentle brush of wings like a nudge to his shoulder, letting Gabriel lean and trusting Gabriel to help him stand upright, too.

Not his big brother. Not Sam. Not Luce.

They landed in the basement and found Bobby waiting with a shotgun. “What are you doing out of the room?” Castiel asked. “Get back inside!”

“Where’s Sam?” Bobby asked shortly. Michael didn’t answer, which was really answer in and of itself. Bobby’s nostrils flared and his lips pulled back in a snarl. “ _Who_.”

“Metatron,” Michael managed. His eyes flashed green and then they got darker until they were like emeralds. Holy Heaven above was Michael furious. “Metatron came and took him.”

It wasn’t often that Gabriel saw Robert Singer truly afraid. Nor did he often see him actually, properly, infuriated. But both emotions crossed over him and flooded his soul in an instant. And it echoed in two other souls beyond him, still in the room, when Ellen and Jo heard, too. Anger and terror and overwhelmingly, above it all, determination to get him back. _Luce, if you could see them right now, you would never doubt anyone’s love for you ever again._

“We’re ready,” Sidria said, hurrying forward, and her Grace was all but pulsing with righteous fury. “We can go with you-“

“No, stop, _wait_ ,” Raphael ordered. “I’ve barely patched Michael back together and we can’t just run off again. Metatron is too fast, too calculated, we need a _plan_.”

“We need to be up there,” Ezekiel insisted. “We can deal with one single angel together.”

“But it’s _not_ a single angel,” Gabriel finally exclaimed because were all of them that dense? “Don’t you get it? He’s not just passing notes and faking power, he’s not just plagiarizing Dad, he’s printing fresh stuff and hailing it as God’s Word. And we don’t even have proof he’s doing it, just our word against God’s, literally.”

“But they would believe you!” Sidria cried.

“Would they believe Lucifer, the one who pulled this all together?” Gabriel asked her. “Sid, we’re not just taking on Metatron, we’re taking on all of _Heaven_ here, too. You can’t come at that head on. You don’t know what that really means, to be against Heaven.”

He’d expected that to sort of quiet them, to make them think. So he was stunned when Anael pushed past them and stood tall and strong and _angry._ “And you don’t know how much faith we put in the archangels. Your word is just as strong as God’s, possibly more than. We lean on you. We rely on you. You _are_ God’s Word, but in living form. If you tell the angels that Metatron has poisoned the well, no one will drink out of it again.”

Ezekiel and Sidria stood beside her, shoulders pushed back, their stance ready for battle. It was enough to make Gabriel pause and catch his breath. Sometimes, just sometimes, he got so wrapped up in their current problems that he forgot that he still had command of numerous angels, that he held such respect in Heaven. That these angels were willing to fight and possibly die for all of them.

It wasn’t just the angels, and he watched as Michael and Raphael seemed to understand, too. Bobby still stood, shotgun at the ready, nothing but his weapon and his wits to take on something far more powerful than him. Yet he was ready, all the same, and so were Ellen and Jo. They seemed to forget how fragile they were, breakable bones and blood vessels, skin and guts that could tear. Sam and Dean had had that problem as humans, too.

Because those souls inside were far brighter and stronger than the bodies they sat in. And for the second time in as many seconds, Gabriel found himself honored and humbled all at once.

Castiel found his voice first. “As much as I’d love to believe only in that, I’ve seen what other angels can become if promised something with power. Some will fall prey to it. And Metatron has proved he’ll resort to working with Hell if it gives him what he wants.”

He then glanced at Michael, and his gaze softened. “But they’re right, too. We need power, and this is how we’ll get it: by trusting in other angels to fight for us, for Heaven. For Lucifer. There are many who would happily stand by your brother’s side. We’re only a handful of them.”

“Do you know who they are?” Raphael asked when Michael said nothing.

“My garrison, for starters. I have to hope that they’ll still stand true and faithful.”

“You shouldn’t be goin’ on your own, Cas,” Bobby said firmly. “Take someone else with you. Hell, I’ll go with you if everyone else has things they need to do and there ain’t anyone else to spare.”

Bobby could’ve said anything he wanted: as soon as he’d used Castiel’s name instead of his usual ‘Feathers’, Castiel had all but melted in fondness. For some reason Gabriel still hadn’t figured out, Bobby had adopted them all.

“I want you safe and here, Bobby. If I take anyone, it’ll be Sidria or Ezekiel. I might have a better chance with another angel by my side. But I am…I am so grateful,” Castiel said, and Heaven above, those were tears in his baby brother’s eyes. “Thank you.”

“Be careful,” Ellen cautioned. “It ain’t worth losin’ you over. We need more numbers, not less.”

“We need to be at full power, as much as we can,” Castiel said. “I’ll get who I can from the garrison.” He paused, and he finally looked as lost as Gabriel had expected him to feel. “I don’t even know what I would tell them, though.”

“Tell them…” Fuck, Gabriel didn’t even know, this was Michael’s job, but Michael was completely unaware of anything except the loss of Lucifer. Dad above, Metatron had _Luce_ , had _Sam_. Who knew what the son of a bitch was doing to his big brother right now.

Michael. Michael needed to be doing this. “Michael,” Gabriel called. Michael kept staring at the window high in the basement wall, eyes bright green and wild. “ _Dean_.”

He got a glare for that, but Gabriel just glared back. “Don’t give me that,” Gabriel insisted. “I’m trying to _help_ , dammit. We all want him back. But I need you right now.” Then, because he wasn’t above being a bastard, he added, “Sam needs you.”

It was enough to pull his big brother back to some semblance of normal. He watched Dean slowly take deep breaths, shut his eyes, clench his fists. When he finally reopened his eyes, they were still dark and stormy, but they weren’t crazed and wild anymore. No, they were just blindingly furious. “Tell them we’re taking on the traitor to Heaven, and if they don’t want to lose their home, they need to saddle up,” Dean said. “I don’t honestly give a fuck what you tell them. But get them ready.”

Castiel nodded and took off in a flash, Sidria right by his side. Dean let out a shaky breath and raised a trembling hand to his face. “It’s not gonna be enough,” he muttered. “We need more fire power.”

“How about…Crowley?”

Everyone turned to Jo. She made a face and crossed her arms. “Believe me, the last thing I want to suggest is Hell getting involved,” she said. “But you seemed to be on vaguely good terms with him. And this sort of would threaten that new crown of his, right?”

Dean made a face but finally nodded. “Probably. No, you’re right, Jo. Crowley getting involved might be the surprise to keep Metatron distracted.”

“And just what are you gonna do with this Metatron, anyway?” Ellen asked.

Dean’s eyes went dark. “I’m going to make him regret ever touching him or thinking about making me kill him.”

It was possibly the most dangerous he’d ever seen his big brother, wings actually not so much dimming as darkening, feathers almost going sharp, and his Grace coiled like a predator. It reminded Gabriel that Dean had spent forty years in Hell, ten of which had been as the star pupil of Hell’s greatest torturer, and Gabriel found himself shying away from Dean just slightly.

It reminded him too much of Lucifer with the Mark. The darkness that had started consuming his big brother, the cold hatred that had filled his eyes whenever he’d regarded Gabriel.

They needed this version of Dean, but Dad above, he didn’t want to lose Dean to it.

Dean suddenly shot his gaze over to Gabriel, and while he didn’t soften, his wing reached over with a gentleness that was at odds with the rest of him and nudged Gabriel. “I’m sure you’ve got some tips for me, _trickster_.”

He got it, then. He wasn’t without his own darkness. He’d done his own vile deeds over the years. Yet Dean was still there, Raphael and Sam and the rest, even after the pain he’d inflicted on them. And right now, Dean needed that part of him to come together and help him get Lucifer back. Get Sam back.

Right now, to get past Heaven and to Metatron, to Sam, they were going to need a little darkness.

“Oh plenty,” he said darkly, and he let a little of Loki into his grin. “You haven’t seen the best of my work.”

“Not that I’m not creeped out by the two of you, because you two make a dangerous combo, but that don’t give us a foot in this fight.”

Dean turned to Bobby, already shaking his head, but Bobby suddenly threw his shotgun onto a nearby workbench and stormed over to him, nose to nose with probably the most powerful being in the room and not seeming to care. _Most powerful human in the whole damn world,_ Gabriel thought again as he watched Bobby all but _snarl_ at Dean. “Now you listen to me good you stupid sonuvabitch. I have stood on the sidelines, I have watched as all of you have flown off time and time again, I have waited to see if you and Sam would come back and what state you’d be in. And I am _done_.”

“Bobby-“

“Don’t you ‘Bobby’ me! I’m not sittin’ here waitin’ to see if my boys live or not. I might not be able to get up close and personal with him but I can do _something_.” Bobby looked at Dean, and the fury faded briefly into a pained grimace of desperation. “I’d march into Hell for the both of you; don’t you know that by now?”

Dean looked like he’d been punched in the gut. “Bobby,” he choked out, and then he seemed to completely lose any other words he could think of. The dark edge had faded into the grief and loss that had been buried underneath, and Gabriel ached to see it. Dean reached out and grasped hold of Bobby’s jacket instead, and Bobby pulled him in for a tight embrace.

Maybe Dad had screwed off somewhere, and maybe John Winchester hadn’t really loved his boys the way they’d deserved. But Gabriel was ridiculously grateful that Bobby Singer had stepped up to the challenge and embraced it with his plaid-covered arms and trucker-capped head.

Soft footsteps alerted Gabriel to someone else approaching, and it was Ellen. He expected her to go over to Dean and Bobby, so he found himself surprised when she rested a hand on his shoulder. “You all right, honey?” she asked softly.

Sure, he was fine. But he hadn’t been able to lie to her before, when he’d had no voice and she’d taken him under her wing, and he couldn’t do it now that he could talk. “I’m tired of people taking and hurting my brother.”

Ellen’s eyes flashed hot with anger. “Me too, Gabe. Me too. We’re in this too.”

“I just don’t know what you can do to help,” Raphael admitted. He made a face. “I can’t give you wings, and while you’re hunters, turning you over to handle a large swath of angels with just the three of you would be folly.”

It felt like a lightbulb went off above his head, hot and sudden, and Gabriel wondered if this was what Lucifer felt like all the damn time. “What about lightbulbs?” Dean asked incredulously, stepping away from Bobby. “Gabe, what-“

“Hunters,” he said. “You said you’d all talked with hunters, gotten a lot of them to back down.”

“Yeah? So-“

Bobby’s eyes widened and he cut Ellen off. “We can get ‘em all somewhere. Just tell us where.”

Three hunters weren’t enough, but a group of them, that was powerful. “Somewhere with Crowley’s bunch of nuts and whoever Cassie can scrounge up,” Gabriel said. “Zeke-“

“We’ll stay with them, ensure none of Hell tries to take out hunters and angels in one go,” Ezekiel said firmly. He rested a hand on Jo’s shoulder and Jo nodded resolutely. Her cheeks went slightly pink, though, and Gabriel caught the slight glimmer of amusement from Dean. _Later,_ Gabriel said, and this whole being responsible thing was shit. He couldn’t believe he was telling Dean this. _Tease them later._

“Any chance you’ve got Crowley’s number?” Raphael asked. “We could summon him but it would sort of spoil the element of surprise.”

Ellen cleared her throat, and Gabriel’s eyes widened. “ _Mom_?” Jo asked, mouth dropped open.

“He texted me,” Ellen said, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s not like I asked him for it.”

There was just so much Gabriel wanted to say with that, and it killed him to not pick on Ellen for apparently having a text conversation with the King of Hell. _Leave her be, Gabe,_ he could all but hear Sam say with a grin, and that was enough to refocus him.

He wanted to hear Sam say it, wanted Sam to joke with him, wanted Lucifer’s embrace and his Grace and the way he kept nudging at Gabriel with the edge of his wings to remind him, _I’m here._ He wanted his big brother back.

“All right, then start getting it together,” Dean said, and Ellen headed back into the panic room with Jo and Ezekiel. “Anael, do you think you can leave Naomi here safely?”

“With all the wards, absolutely,” she said. “Can you lock this door from the outside, too?”

Dean flinched and shut his eyes, and guilt with a healthy dose of self-loathing was obvious in his Grace. “Yeah, it locks from the outside,” Bobby said quietly. “It’ll keep her.”

Anael didn’t seem to understand but she slowly nodded. “Then I can stay with the Harvelles, get them to where they need to go. You too, Bobby. We’ll be ready.”

“I’ll start makin’ calls.” Bobby headed upstairs, presumably to get something, then paused, resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I meant it,” he said, voice a low rumble. “Heaven, Hell, it don’t matter. I’d march into both for you and Sam.”

Dean met his gaze and slowly nodded. “So would we,” he said. “Always, Dad.”

Bobby inhaled sharply and then patted Dean on the cheek twice. “Don’t think I’ll just roll over and do whatever you want, sayin’ that,” he said, and Dean finally grinned, a real smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bobby snorted and headed upstairs, but he patted Raphael and Gabriel on the shoulders as he went. “That goes for you two idjits, too.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, either,” Raphael said, all perfect innocence, and Bobby finally caved into a grin of his own as he went up to the main floor.

_And then there were three,_ Gabriel couldn’t help but think, and Dean shook his head.

“They’ve got the second and third lines of defense handled, in case Metatron does what I think he will and tries to take on Earth while we’re facing him. But we’ve got our own problems. He won’t go easy.”

“Three archangels against one not-so-archangel, the odds have to be in our favor a little here,” Gabriel said.

Dean’s lips turned up into a snarl. “He’s got an archangel to use as bait, as a bartering chip, as whatever the fuck he wants. He’s got Lucifer, he’s got _Sammy_. And he’s doing who knows what to him right now while we sit and try to plan this out.”

The windows had started to ring again in his fury and panic, and he visibly forced himself to calm down. When the windows didn’t stop ringing, he turned and pinned Gabriel with a look. “Easy, Gabe. If I have to settle down, so do you.”

“Then let’s get this sorted and _done_ ,” Gabriel snapped. “You think I’m not imagining what he’s doing to Sam right now? Because I watched it happen already. I got the preview. And I don’t want to watch it again.”

“Calm down, both of you,” Raphael said, but the hypocrite’s eyes were flaring bright blue. “Are you thinking a direct assault is our best option, Michael? Give him no chance to use Lucifer as a hostage against us? There are three of us.”

“Yeah, but not really.” Dean shook his head and looked at Gabriel. “You and I have our full True Vessels, that’ll give us more power. Raphael’s True Vessel isn’t on Earth right now so-“

The spike of unease that Gabriel and Dean felt was enough to silence them. Slowly they turned to Raphael who was very pointedly not looking at either of them. “Raph?” Gabriel asked, eyes widening. “Something you wanna tell us?”

Raphael gave a sigh and met their gaze, and it was so very obvious in that moment. Gabriel felt his jaw drop.

Raphael True Vessel’s existed. And it wasn’t the woman he was currently in.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have all graciously waited and I'm here to reward you. Hoping you enjoy the chapter - I'll try and keep 'em coming now that I'm moved and grad school's semester is nearing its end.

Raphael could count on one hand the number of times he’d truly lied to his brothers. _I’ll be fine_ and _Don’t worry about me_ didn’t count, they never did, because that’s what you did when you didn’t want people to worry. He also didn’t count the time he spent not remembering. So yes, it was honestly a minor amount of times that he’d given false information to his brothers on purpose.

This right here had been one of them. And he remembered now why lying never worked out well: when the truth came out, it was likely to make things worse.

“So you have a True Vessel,” Michael began. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. It was such a relaxed pose, yet Raphael knew his brother was anything but. His brother used to stand, commanding and proud, strong and without question. This, he thought for a half-second of random reflection, was a trait he’d certainly picked up from being Dean Winchester. It was very…off-putting. And probably meant to be so.

_You’re stalling,_ he could almost hear Lucifer tell him, and his eyes shut tight. If Metatron had his way, he’d never hear his brother’s voice again, and he’d only just started enjoying life with Lucifer’s harmony mixed with his own again, a sign of their brotherhood.

Gabriel bounced on the balls of his feet. “Okay, whatever, you have a True Vessel. Let’s go get them and _go_.”

“I can’t,” Raphael said. Michael’s eyes narrowed, and it wasn’t just Michael now, it was definitely Dean Winchester: pissed-off and over-protective big brother whose kindred spirit was in danger. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” Gabriel asked. “It can’t be any worse than mine! Mine was a demi-god!”

“But fully grown.” He glanced down at the colors on the nails – Toni always had the most interesting designs – and felt reminded again of why he’d made the choice he had. “Your vessels were all full grown.”

Michael’s eyes went wide as understanding dawned. “How old?” was all he asked.

“Six,” Raphael told him quietly. “Toni’s niece is so excited about first grade. She wonders where her angel went to, but Toni tells her that I’m still with her and always will be. Evangeline will always be my responsibility and I will always be there for her.”

Gabriel’s voice almost sounded loud in the following silence. “You just can’t take her.”

She was six years old. In time, she would be his True Vessel, and Raphael had no doubt they would do incredible things for the world, for humanity, for everyone. But not when she was just a child.

Toni had heard him, too, when he’d first sent his inquiring voice towards his vessel. She’d begged him to use her instead, and had even thought the idea adventurous. He wasn’t quite sure what someone in a small-town hospital did with their time, but Toni had been very clearly bored with her work. From what he’d gleaned from her memories, however, her tone seemed to have changed, and she had found new life in helping others and healing little ones.

“How close is Toni to Evangeline, blood-wise?” Michael asked.

“Maternal aunt.”

Only one generation, but the limit of power would still be great. Michael pursed his lips and then surprised Raphael with his next question. “Is Toni okay with what we’re intending to do?”

Why he was surprised, he didn’t know. Of course Michael would consider the vessel in all of this. “Ask her,” Gabriel said. “We’re storming the castle and undoing a nasty prophecy. Someone’s probably going to get hurt.”

Someone like Toni. All of his brothers had their vessels without issue. Only Raphael had a living vessel inhabiting the same space. **_Toni, can you hear me?_**

_Of course I can. I’m not deaf in here, you know. And I say go for it. Well, I should leave a note telling a few people that I’m out for the next few days, but after that, we can go._

**_Are you sure?_ **

The soul’s response this time came a little quieter, a little sadder. _I lost my little sister five years ago. You know that._

**_I wish I could have saved your sister, but she was bound for higher ground._ **

A laugh. _And that’s more than I could’ve ever expected after all the partying and drugs. She’s at peace at last. You gave me that, you let me say goodbye to her in her Heaven. If I can save someone’s little brother or sister, I’m gonna do it. So quit stalling and let’s go!_

Raphael blinked and turned to Michael. “She’s very sure,” he said firmly. “Believe me.”

Michael’s lips turned up, the smirk all Dean. “She seems the type,” he agreed. “I like that in a woman.”

_Tell him I’m way more woman than he could ever handle._

“She implies that she’s out of your league,” Raphael said. “And please, don’t develop a crush on my vessel. It would be awkward at best.”

Gabriel cackled and it was the greatest sound Raphael had heard in a long time. “Then let’s hit Metatron where it hurts.”

The night hung around him in the silent and empty train yard, and Castiel couldn’t believe it had only been a handful of hours on the Earth between when Sam had taken off after Dean to retrieve the lance and now, when they were desperately making their stand against Heaven and Lucifer was-

He shut his eyes against the images that came to mind. Of Lucifer, trapped in Hell, a plaything of Asmodeus. Torn and destroyed, bloody and ruined. Who knew what Metatron was doing to him now.

“We’ll get him back,” Sidria said softly, leaning against a nearby train car. Castiel nodded. They had to. There was no other way this could go except forward. They _would_ get Lucifer back.

A woosh of wings caught his attention, and Castiel quickly turned his attention to the angels that had arrived. Seven angels stood before him in a variety of vessels, and all of them looked ready to do battle. He went to greet them, relief coursing through him. His garrison had come.

Then he froze. Because these weren’t the Graces he knew so well.

“Hello, Castiel,” the one in front said. “You don’t look pleased to see me.”

“Jorel,” he breathed. “I was expecting to hear from-“

“From who? Hannah? Eli? Maybe Pahail?” Jorel snorted, and Castiel slowly let his blade slide into his hand. “They’re not coming. They’ve got orders…elsewhere.”

“Did you kill them,” Castiel said, voice low. “Tell me.”

Jorel’s eyes flashed. “Unlike you, they haven’t done anything wrong except consider your call for help. We simply diverted them to a different direction. Said we would aid you instead. They live…for now. You, I can’t say the same.”

Another swoop of wings was all the warning Castiel got before he ducked away from a blade. He swung his up and the resulting clang shot a few nearby car windows out. The street was empty for now, a handful of vehicles parked beside the old train cars, and Castiel had intended it to be safe for numerous Graces to meet here, to keep people safe-

A cry of rage made him shove another angel away and turn back to Jorel, who was holding his arm to him, Grace spilling out. Sidria stood above him, eyes vivid with her Grace. “It is you who are at fault, Jorel,” she hissed. “You are not following God’s Word. You have all of you been deceived!”

“Castiel is a traitor to Heaven!” another angel cried. “Sidria, see reason! Raphael himself demolished him!”

“And yet he lives! Doesn’t that strike you as impossible unless a higher authority deemed him necessary, wanted him to live?”

Another blade whistled forward but it was aimed at Sidria, and Castiel took his wing and shoved her aside. The blade cut through a few of his feathers at the tip, and he hissed but didn’t feel the pain of lost Grace. He’d live. Sidria wouldn’t have.

Sidria looked stunned at the angel who’d nearly ended her, and then she rose up, her own blade in hand again, face twisted in fury. “Sidria, be careful,” Castiel called, then swung his blade at yet another angel that came at him. He dodged it and landed a kick behind him to yet another angel, but the third angel managed to send him to the ground. He fought to get his wings out from underneath him but a kick to his stomach sent him sprawling, coughing and gasping for air. His blade went tumbling off to the side.

Seven versus two, with Sidria still recovering from Cain’s assault. This wasn’t the help Castiel had hoped to find. This was Dean being proven right, that Metatron had Heaven in his grasp too tight. _Michael,_ he sent out desperately, hoping that Dean could hear him as Jorel came forward, blood and Grace dripping down his arm, blade clutched in his hand. Somewhere, Sidria gasped in pain, and Castiel desperately tried to get his blade back.

“Perhaps you refuse to listen to God’s Word,” Jorel said. “But we haven’t. And we won’t.” He swung his blade up above his head.

Then lurched forward, and Castiel jerked, eyes wide at the blade through his chest. Grace and blood spilled out in a bright splash of final light. When it cleared, and Jorel’s body lay beside him, wings a mere ashen imprint, only then did Castiel see who his savior was.

And stared. Because it couldn’t be.

A head turned to the side, a quick grin framed by dark curls. “What’s the matter, Clarence? Not expecting to see me?”

“Meg,” he breathed.

She swung her gaze up behind him, and her eyes turned black. “I’d let go of the angel if I were you,” she purred, but her darkness was coiled and ready to strike, and Castiel’s blade hung lightly from her hand.

“You think we fear a demon?” one of the angels said with a snort. “You’re just another black stain on the Earth.”

“Aww, you’re such a sweet talker,” Meg cooed. “But I was more referring to the guy behind you.”

Another light went up, then another, and an instant later when Castiel could see, the only beings that remained were Sidria, Meg, and a very smug looking Crowley. “What are you doing here?” Castiel asked, still gaping.

“Got a very interesting call,” Crowley said. “Something about the real source of our problems in Heaven. And since I was asked _so_ nicely to help, how could I refuse? It wasn’t as if your Grace was difficult to find.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “You mean Ellen told you that your throne was at risk from Metatron, and that we needed to find Clarence to give him the rest of the plan.”

“Details, details.”

“Plan?” Sidria asked.

Meg grinned. “Apparently we get to hang out a lot more, and with whatever hunters Singer can round up and whatever angels you can find.” She glanced down at Jorel’s body with a dismissive sniff. “How’s that working out for you, anyway?”

“They sent my garrison away,” Castiel said. With a groan he pulled himself to sitting, then found a hand waiting for him. Meg just raised an eyebrow, and Castiel paused before taking it. It hurt to stand and he could taste blood, but it wasn’t permanent damage. Just annoying damage to his vessel. He stitched a few bones back together that would impede his progress and movement, then let the other scratches and bruises go. He’d need his Grace for more important things.   
Sidria looked all right, if a bit concerned about standing so close to Crowley. “We need to try my garrison again,” Castiel said. “But I’m concerned about more angels being sent down.”

Meg twirled the blade in her hand. “Meh. I can pluck feathers. So, is it time for the end of the world?”

“Just about,” Castiel agreed. “Are you truly willing to help?”

She gave a shrug. “Them? Not really. Sam…yeah,” she said softly, then glanced back up at him. “You? Absolutely, Clarence.”

Castiel made a face. “I still don’t understand that reference.”

“I know. That’s what makes it better.”

“We have places to go, angels to pluck, demons to mobilize, hunters to steer clear of,” Crowley said. “If you could put off your off-putting flirting, we’d all be grateful.”

“I wasn’t aware it was possible to make you feel ill,” Castiel drawled, raising an eyebrow. “If that’s the case, I’ll do my best to continue doing so.”

Meg’s eyes lit up with clear delight. Sidria just looked confused but her lips were turned up, just a little. Crowley looked as if he _would_ actually be ill. “You choose now to loosen up,” he muttered. “Wonderful.”

“Come on, Monty Python,” Meg said. She handed Castiel’s blade back to him, and his Grace felt stronger as it was joined back together. “My unicorn and I want to save the day.”

Maybe he was losing his mind. Or maybe he’d just been hanging out with Gabriel too much. But when she took off, and Castiel followed, he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit better about their chances.

Even if had no idea how he’d gone from a Clarence to a unicorn.

The night felt like it was dragging on, too long. Too…wrong. The stars seemed as if they were looking down and judging him for all of his failures: failure to know sooner where the danger was, failure to keep Father around, failure to protect Sammy-

Michael shoved the thought aside and pushed the Dean part of him as far down as he could. It was too much like that night in Cold Oak, holding Sam’s body, mud soaking through his pants until he was chilled but none of it had mattered. The only cold that had mattered had been Sam’s skin when they’d gathered him up to take inside.

_No_. He couldn’t do this. Michael knew better than anyone what Lucifer could withstand, what _Sam_ could withstand. He knew his little brother was holding on for them. Whatever Metatron was doing to him, preparing to use him as a hostage, torturing him, Lucifer could hold on.

He had to.

Wings cutting through the air took his attention back to the space in front of him. Out in the fields of Kansas had seemed an appropriate place to congregate, once their individual tasks had been done. Raphael’s task had been to shutter Naomi in with a hint of Grace, enough to keep her for a while, and allow Toni a chance to set her possible affairs in order. Michael’s had been to encourage Crowley that he wanted a stake in this, and if Castiel’s last prayer was to be believed, the demon had joined the fray just in the nick of time. And Gabriel’s task-

Gabriel finished landing and grinned at the two of them. “It’s done. Bobby, the girls, Zeke and Anael, they’re all set. Any angels try to get through the wards I set up around them and it’s not going to be pretty.”

“They have what they need?” Michael asked.

He got a firm nod. “Trust me. That trunk of yours is going to give them anything they could possibly want, including French eclairs if they felt so inclined. _That_ bit of magic took a bit. It would’ve been easier with my Grace, but.”

Any use of Grace would’ve possibly alerted Metatron. Not that he probably doubted for a minute what they would do next, but hopefully they were still a step ahead of him. Just enough of a step to get them in and out of Heaven with a little brother in tow. Then they could go back once they had Lucifer safe.

“You didn’t have to give them your car,” Raphael said quietly. “The likelihood of it getting damaged-“

“She’s kept people I love safe before,” Michael said. “And if they need to get out of there fast, they won’t have a ton of wings to do it. Better for them to have a fast and reliable vehicle.”

He was very deliberately not thinking about it being a parting gift. Because they were all walking out of this. Everyone except Metatron was going to live.

He stretched his neck and popped some vertebrae just because he could. Gabriel’s wings twitched, and Raphael’s were already in position. “We ready?” he asked.

Gabriel nodded. “Get in, get Luce, get the fuck out of there. Kill the asshole if we can but that’s not the main point of this particular trip.”

No, the main point was removing the hostage before Metatron could do even worse things to his little brother. It hadn’t been that long, hardly half a day if that, and Michael had to hope that it wasn’t enough time to do irreversible damage. “Then let’s go.”

He shot up and into the sky, Raphael and Gabriel banded tightly together beside him. For once, Gabriel kept pace instead of hurtling off ahead, a testament to how worried and determined Gabriel was.

Heaven didn’t feel any different when he landed. Their hall still held the same warm feeling it had when they’d left, and Michael refused to look towards Lucifer’s space. He’d be in it again. “We’re not splitting up,” he said firmly. “We’ll stay together, start on our end of Heaven, look for Lucifer in the most obvious places: the prison, the holding rooms-“

It hit him like a gust of air, and Michael froze. “Michael?”

It couldn’t be. It just _couldn’t_. “Michael,” Raphael asked again, but he waved him off. Where was it, where _was it_ -

There, straight ahead, like a homing beacon. It was a beacon he’d been running to all his life, a beacon he knew better than himself. “Luce,” he whispered, and he hurried off to follow the feeling. It felt like a string tied within his gut, pulling him forward, urging him onward. _Come find me,_ he could all but hear.

_Lucifer,_ he called out, gently, and the feeling intensified. “C’mon,” he said as he ran, and Raphael and Gabriel followed behind him as they wove their way through Heaven. Up several flights of stairs and down through the rooms of souls, around a few garden spaces and meeting areas, moving forward, seeking out the source of the feeling. Of Lucifer.

Only one room lay ahead of them, two big double doors that Michael didn’t remember well, and he pushed them open, feeling as if he were out of breath. Only then did he look around and take everything in.

Large, open space that almost resembled an office building floor, complete with bright fluorescent lights and linoleum flooring. Bare, empty, an off-white that was almost gray, with some of the lights dimming towards the other end.

Lucifer, standing at that other end, hidden in shadow, head hung low and away from them.

Michael stared. “Lucifer?”

Lucifer’s shoulders went down in what looked like relief and with it his arm, which somehow, incredibly, held his lance. He turned around slowly, like it hurt, but he looked untouched. His hair was even combed back and away from his face.

He was alive. He was _alive_ and somehow had Michael’s lance and looked like he’d managed to get away. Michael felt his lips turn up into a massive grin of relief. Only Luce. “Luce,” he called, his voice echoing, and he hurried forward towards his little brother.

Lucifer didn’t move, just stood, and suddenly Raphael caught Michael by the elbow. “No-!”

Too late did Michael realize the trap for what it was. A bright light engulfed them, blowing out a few more bulbs in the process, and it _hurt_. A nasty feeling cut through him to his very core, to his Grace, and it felt like bad sushi and being slammed in the solar plexus all at once. Then it passed, leaving him a little woozy on his feet but otherwise all right.

The light dissipated and he realized two things. One was that it was only Gabriel by his side, who also didn’t look like he felt amazing. Raphael was gone.

The second thing was that Lucifer hadn’t moved, but someone else behind him did. Metatron stepped out and away from the wall, bloody handprint on the wall in the middle of another banishing sigil. He gave a cheery wave and rested his other hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. Lucifer didn’t shift away, just stood, waiting.

“Hi boys,” Metatron said. “I think it’s about time we had a chat, don’t you?”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me be extremely clear on this. There is absolutely NO child getting hurt in this fic. Trust me, she ain't gonna be a victim.

Michael’s mind went in way too many directions at once. Raphael was gone, Metatron was there, and for whatever damn reason, Lucifer wasn’t throwing him off. Lucifer was standing beside him like they were buddy-buddy, and it didn’t make any sense. _None_ of it made any sense. “Lucifer,” Michael called, desperately now.

“Had an easy time getting here, I hope?” Metatron asked. “There’s little to no angels left here in Heaven; I sent the majority of them down to Earth to deal with the last of the rats and rabble.”

“Yeah, we figured you might be stupid enough to try that,” Gabriel snapped. “Trust me, they’re not going to like what they find.”

Metatron’s eyes narrowed. “It’s disgusting, Gabriel, honestly. You, consorting with humanity. The pagan god thing I understand, truly, but the humanity part just…bewilders me. It’s vexing to think that you’d prefer them to your heavenly brethren.”

“Lucifer,” Michael said again. Cool eyes turned to regard him, this time but still his little brother said nothing. “Luce!”

“He’s not deaf,” Metatron said. He raised an eyebrow and looked so smug Michael just wanted to punch him. “He can hear you just fine. Heavens above does he think you’re _stupid_ , Lucifer.”

“He always did,” Lucifer said, but the tone, the voice, it was all _wrong_. “He never was able to deal with a brother who could pin him physically and mentally. Jealousy is such a…human trait.”

Michael froze. _A human trait._ The sneer, the disgust, all of it sounded-

It sounded exactly like Amara had before they’d locked her away.

Gabriel managed to recover first. “Okay, that is nine types of wrong but what the hell did you do with Raphael?”

“I got a little better at banishing things I don’t want,” Metatron said. He shrugged like it was no big deal, but it was clear that he was pleased. “Writing prophecies, writing God’s Word, writing spells, they’re not that different when you get to the meat of them. And while you both have complete control of your vessels which, honestly, lacks the narrative of discovering yourself, Raphael is using a second-rate meatsuit. Makes it a lot easier to send scampering.”

“Remind me to fix that,” Michael said through gritted teeth. “Now for the bigger question: what the _fuck_ did you do to my little brother?”

Metatron’s eyebrows went to his hairline in shock. “That humanity trait of yours isn’t very becoming,” he said. “Honestly. You have the extent of language, and you use the basest of words? Why even talk if you’re going to waste speech like that?”

Through it all, Lucifer stood, silent as a tomb, eyes cold as ice. Michael tried to reach out internally, tried to find Lucifer’s harmony and Grace that he’d followed to get here, but there was nothing where he could usually feel his little brother. _Lucifer,_ he called anyway. Nothing. _Luce! Sammy!_

Nothing but those cold eyes burning straight through him, like Lucifer didn’t even see him. Or considered him scum of the Earth. Nothing that looked anything like the little brother who had more emotions and empathy in his baby finger than most people did their entire beings. This was beyond wrong, and the first stirrings of panic began to form in his very Grace.

Metatron clapped Lucifer on the shoulder, and it was then that Michael realized that his brother’s longer hair was tucked behind his ears. It was such a stupid thing to note, but the act represented just how much this being in front of him wasn’t his brother. And to let Metatron chum around with him, like they were best friends…

Michael’s blade slid out, and Lucifer just lifted Michael’s lance to match him. “I’ll ask one more time,” Michael said, voice low and dangerous, “what you did to my little brother. Then things are gonna get ugly.”

Metatron glanced at Lucifer. Lucifer narrowed his gaze and a hint of a smirk hung on his lips. “He freed me,” he said. “The Cage clouded me, made me numb, and all those years on Earth just made me so…impure. I’m finally back to where I deserve to be.”

Cool eyes turned to Gabriel, who was still standing in silence, watching with what looked like growing horror on his face. “You have this choice,” Lucifer said with the fakest sympathy Michael’d ever heard in his life. “You can join me and I’ll keep you alive. Or you can stay with Michael and be slaughtered. Your call, ‘little one’,” he added, making the usual endearment cruel. Gabriel flinched, and Michael suddenly remembered this Lucifer. Vicious, uncaring, focused on only himself. Deep in the throes of the Mark.

He glanced at his brother’s arm, but he didn’t see anything. That didn’t mean it wasn’t on his shoulders or his wings or even his fucking _foot_. But how? How had Metatron managed it?

“I did warn you,” Metatron said. “And honestly, Gabriel, I did my best to keep you from getting in between these two.”

“By having Asmodeus capture him and torture him?” Michael said incredulously. “How the hell is that any better?”

The scribe just put his hands up in a, ‘what can you do?’ gesture. “At least that way, he wouldn’t have had to watch one brother kill another.”

Lucifer spun the lance, and Michael felt himself searching for the little boy he knew in those eyes. “Sam,” he called, desperately. “Sammy, talk to me.”

Hazel eyes gave away nothing. There was nothing in there to tell him Sam was in the building. Sam wouldn’t do this. He knew that. But that didn’t make this any easier.

“Sam,” he tried again, and this time he earned a snort of derision.

“It’s cute how you think that a human name is going to, what, make me side with you? You have an ugly connection with humanity, Michael. And it needs to be severed and cleaned up.”

Wait. “This crap again?” Michael said, anger beginning to rise. “Humanity needs to be purged? I think this is pretty old rhetoric, Sammy. Oh, wait, Sam would never stoop to such stupidity.”

Finally Lucifer’s eyes flashed with something besides indifference. “Your true vessel is a man who didn’t even manage to finish high school, and whose only claim to fame is killing things and fixing old, broken things. Yet you never managed to fix yourself, did you?”

Michael clenched his fists, trying not to feel each blow. “Better than the guy who graduated with top honors and still wound up listening to this windbag,” he snarled.

Gabriel stepped forward, stopped, then stepped back, hands up. Gone was any hint of the trickster darkness; this, too, was far too familiar, his youngest brother and his broken heart. “Guys, stop,” he pleaded. “Seriously, stop it.”

“Stay out of this, Gabe,” Michael warned. If he thought he could’ve sent a call with his True Voice to him, he would’ve, but Metatron and Lucifer would hear it, too. And he needed Lucifer well and truly steamed.

Because he had to be right about this. He had to be.

“Choose your side, Gabriel,” Lucifer said. He kept his eyes locked on Michael and didn’t so much as blink.

Gabriel had actually started to tremble, and Dean slid into the driver’s seat. There was a time for policing thoughts and then there was a time for keeping his last remaining little brother safe. “Gabe,” he snapped, and Gabriel jumped, staring at him with wide, conflicted eyes. “This isn’t a doughnut run.” _Please, please, Gabriel._

Gabriel’s eyes went impossibly wider, and then, before the others could do anything, he disappeared in a flash of wings. Thank _fuck_. One down.

One to go.

“I’ll send someone,” Metatron said, but Lucifer shook his head.

“Don’t bother. When I’m done with Michael, I’ll hunt him down myself.”

Not on Dean’s watch. “That would imply that you’ll leave the room without me,” Dean said, and he raised an eyebrow. “Not happening, bro.”

Metatron’s eyes lit up. “I told you,” he said. “I told you Michael wants you dead. And now you can do what needs to be done.”

For a second, Lucifer’s eyes flashed, and Dean felt every part of him beg for some part of Lucifer, of Sam, to get back online. Then it was gone, but it only made him all the more determined. His little brother was in there. He could fix this.

“Then c’mon, little brother,” he said, and held his arms out. “I’m the only one who can legitimately kick your ass in real time. Let me prove it.”

Lucifer snarled and lunged forward.

The first thing Raphael did, upon returning to conscious after impact, was heal the damage done by the fall. Not horrible – two broken legs, a dislocated shoulder, and what would’ve been the world’s worst case of road rash. An instant later and it was gone. “Toni, are you all right?” he demanded. Oh his stomach _hurt_. His Grace ached.

He was so very tired of that banishing sigil, and he was going to do something about it as soon as they had Heaven back together.

_Well, that could’ve gone better. What’s wrong with Sam?_

Question of the year. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “But I’m going to find out.” As soon as he could get the strength back to fly.

Or. You know. Figure out where he was to begin with.

_Huh. I always wanted to visit Hawaii. I just figured I’d be drinking a lot more alcohol. Actually, I could go for a drink right about now._

“Don’t tempt me,” Raphael muttered. Well, that at least gave him the general idea of where they were at the very least. Now that he had a semblance of direction, he could smell the warmth of the volcanoes, hear the whisper through the trees, feel the waves lapping on the distant shore. Around them was a dense forest of green, and he could feel the million beings that surrounded them, all of them keeping a very wide berth.

He felt the being a second before it landed, and even as he turned, Gabriel appeared, breathless. “Are you all right?” Raphael asked, scanning his little brother for injury. He looked all right, and had clearly flown here of his own accord, not been flung out of Heaven.

Gabriel didn’t respond right away, and Raphael peered closer. Was his little brother…crying? “Gabriel,” he said, alarmed now as he took in the trembling of Gabriel’s wings, of the fear in Gabriel’s eyes. “Little one-“

“Don’t, don’t call me that,” Gabriel spat, before he dashed his hand over his eyes. “Just, don’t.”

“What happened?”

His little brother wrapped his arms around himself, and his wings drooped miserably. “Nothing ever changes,” he said bitterly. “They’re up there fighting to the death with Metatron cheering Lucifer on from the sidelines. It doesn’t matter whether it was made-up prophecy or not: it was always going to come down to this. Again.”

That made absolutely no sense. “Sam would never lay a hand on Dean,” Raphael said firmly. “Lucifer would never harm Michael, ever.”

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the archangel that sounds a lot like Lucifer before he got thrown into the Cage.”

That sounded even less like him. “But that’s not Sam,” Raphael insisted. “Even if that was Lucifer’s true nature, which it isn’t, Sam has never shared any of those thoughts. Has he?”

Gabriel paused, and under the hurt, under the fear, Raphael could see the cogs starting to turn. “No,” he finally admitted. “Sam would never.”

“Where is Michael?”

“Back up there. He pulled his blade and was egging Lucifer on.”

That didn’t sound like Michael at all, either. “And how did you find me?” Raphael asked.

A bit lip. “Dean referenced a conversation we had after I killed Asmodeus, when I said I should’ve taken you with me. I took the hint.”

So Michael had gotten Gabriel out of harm’s way and was taking Lucifer on all by himself. A Lucifer with Metatron clearly by his side. “We need to get back up there,” Raphael said, then flinched as his wings protested the abuse of moving.

Gabriel hurried to his side to prop him up. “You’ll be toast as soon as you do,” he warned. “Metatron cooked up something that you won’t be able to counter without a true vessel.”

Raphael shook his head. “Pure vessels only?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Gabriel paused. “Impure…that’s what Lucifer said.”

“That sounds like something Metatron is feeding him.”

“But it’s bullshit, and Luce would never listen to it,” Gabriel argued. Using Lucifer’s nickname: progress. The fear was beginning to dissipate under logic, as it so often did. “So why is he? You think Metatron put him under a spell?”

“I think he did something far worse,” Raphael said slowly. “There’s only one way that an angel can be controlled or led so easily.”

Gabriel froze, and all six of his wings stopped trembling. “You think he got reeducated,” he said at last.

“I do. And I imagine Michael thinks so, too.” Or was at least counting on it. The only way that Dean could get to his brother was to make sure that he didn’t have to worry about Gabriel.

Gabriel tightened his grip on Raphael’s arm. “He sent me away, didn’t he.”

“He can’t focus on saving Lucifer if he worries about you at the same time, little one.” Raphael paused and cringed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“No, it’s…it’s fine.” His little brother took a deep breath. “Lucifer spit it at me like it was a curse. It…it just hurt. But it’s not him.”

“No. No more than it was me before.” He turned to Gabriel and caught his face between his hands. If they were wrong, then Raphael would fight to undo what Metatron had done, whatever it was. But if it was reeducation, it was perhaps the worst reeducation that had ever been done. Somehow, Metatron had cut away every part of Sam Winchester, every part of Lucifer, until there was only the Lucifer who’d borne the Mark. It made Raphael furious, to think of his little brother violated in such a horrific fashion.

And if he was right, and it was a reeducation, Michael was going to need all the help he could get.

“Listen to me,” Raphael said. “You stayed quiet to protect Sam, to save Lucifer, as best you could before when you were in Hell. Now, now I need you to be loud and visceral to bring him back. I need you to fight for him.”

“Always,” Gabriel swore. “I’ll get back up there and give my life if I have to.”

He would, too. And Sam would be devastated if he came back to himself and found Gabriel dead. “Let’s try and keep us all alive,” Raphael said. “For now, we need to both get back up there.”

“Raph, you’ll just be tossed back down here.”

_Do it._

Raphael paused. “Toni-?”

_Do it. Because if Lucifer, as reprogrammed as he is right now, gets down to Earth with Metatron? We’re all dead anyway. So…do it._

Raphael felt his heart stop. **_Toni, this is going to be the most dangerous thing I have done in eons._**

_I know. I don’t say this lightly. But I’m no good to you right now. And she is. She’s like my own child, Raphael. And I’m telling you that you need her._

“Raph…?”

Raphael took a deep breath. “We need to go to Philadelphia. There’s…something I need to do.”

Gabriel just nodded and wrapped his hands around Raphael’s. “Rest your wings,” he said. “I got you.”

Something moved in her room.

She sat up, pulling the covers up to her chin. Then blinked. There stood Aunt Toni next to some man she didn’t know, but he seemed nice. They were holding hands, and Aunt Toni didn’t look good.

“Oh, we’re doing this,” the man muttered. “Fuck.”

“Earmuffs,” Aunt Toni said, annoyed, but…it didn’t sound like Aunt Toni. It sounded like someone else.

Evangeline sat up even straighter. “You’re my angel,” she said. “Why do you look like Aunt Toni?”

Aunt Toni made a face. It was the grown up face that Evangeline really hated. It usually came with Aunt Toni saying, “I have to go away,” or, “You’re too young to understand.”

She didn’t say any of those things, though. Instead, she said, “I’m inside your Aunt Toni right now. She’s letting me be with her.”

“Like a ghost?” Evangeline asked.

“Something like that,” Aunt Toni said, and she smiled. “But now, I need to not be with Aunt Toni.”

It felt maybe like a lightbulb, like she’d seen in her cartoons. “You need me,” she said. “Because you’re my angel, and I’m your girl.”

For some reason, that didn’t make Aunt Toni smile anymore. “Well, she’s definitely your vessel,” the man said. “Smart as a whip.”

“I’m in first grade,” she said proudly.

The man gave a grin and winked at her. “Good on you, kiddo. I bet you’re the best in your class.” He reached over and tugged at her ear, and when he brought his hand back, her favorite candy was in his palm. She grabbed the small bag of jellybeans and began happily eating. Strawberry was her favorite.

Aunt Toni – or really, the angel in Aunt Toni – sat down next to her on her bed. “Do you know how you want to have a brother or sister?”

She nodded while grabbing another jellybean. Somehow, they were all strawberry, like the man had known. “Aunt Toni says I can’t have one because Mommy’s gone to be with the angels, and Daddy doesn’t want to get married,” she said. “Is Mommy in Heaven?”

“She is,” Aunt Toni and the angel said. “I have brothers and sisters, and I have three brothers that are really, really close to me. I love them so much,” they said, and Aunt Toni’s eyes filled with tears. The man put a hand on her shoulder like Daddy sometimes did for her when she was sad.

“Are you my angel’s brother?” she asked the man.

The man smiled. “I am,” he said. “My name is Gabriel.”

“Then where are the other two?” Because if there were three brothers and there was one here, then the other two were still not there. She could do math, Aunt Toni had helped her.

Aunt Toni’s eyes flashed, but it wasn’t Aunt Toni. Inside her eyes, Evangeline could see the angel, and he was amazing and beautiful and kind of scary. But not to her, because he would always be her angel.

“They’re in danger,” her angel said. “Gabriel got away, but I need to go back up there and help them. And…and I need your help.”

“I want to help,” she said eagerly. She finished the last of the jellybeans by shoving two in her mouth at once. “Ah whn’a hel’p!”

Gabriel let out a snort, lips turning up into a smile. Even Aunt Toni smiled. “How do we do this?” Gabriel asked. “I can’t guarantee we’ll have her back by morning.”

Aunt Toni’s eyes flashed again, and Evangeline crawled over to her. “I don’t have school tomorrow, it’s a work day for the teachers,” she said. “I was gonna go over to Mrs. Johnson’s house next door while Daddy went to work. Aunt Toni can say I went with her instead.”

“Toni said much the same thing,” the angel said. “She has a story in mind for Jeffrey when he wakes in a few hours. I need to leave a note.”

“I’ll get dressed,” Evangeline said, jumping off the bed. She went to head to her closet, but Aunt Toni grabbed her first. She looked very serious, so Evangeline tried hard not to bounce on her feet.

Aunt Toni took a deep breath. “This is dangerous, Evie,” the angel said. “Like, you might get hurt sort of dangerous. I will do my best to keep you safe, but you need to know that this is very dangerous.”

“Like a car explosion?” she asked. “Daddy deals with those sometimes.”

“Sort of like that,” the angel agreed. “Your daddy does some very dangerous things for his job as a firefighter.”

“But he’s brave,” Evangeline said proudly. No one was braver than her Daddy. “I want to be brave, too. And you’ll keep me safe. You’re my angel.”

Slowly Aunt Toni began to smile. “Yes,” she said softly. “I am. And you’re wrong, little love. You are braver than your Daddy.”

She liked the sound of that. “I’ll wear my favorite shirt,” she said.

“You do that,” Aunt Toni said as she stood. “We’ll go downstairs. I’ll write a note for your father. And then we’ll go.”

Just before they left, Evangeline called out, “Wait.” Both of the grown-ups stopped, and Evangeline asked the question she’d always wanted to ask out loud. “What’s your name?”

Aunt Toni’s eyes flashed, and Evangeline felt warm, like she’d had hot chocolate after sledding outside. “My name is Raphael,” the angel said.

Raphael. She liked it. “I’ll get dressed fast,” she promised. Raphael and Gabriel left, and the door didn’t even make a sound when they closed it. She wasted no time in racing to her closet and finding her new shirt, the one that Aunt Toni had bought for her. She’d been saving it for a good time, and it was now.

It was the oddest group that Castiel had ever seen gathered, and he was half terrified that it was going to implode before they even faced down the true enemy.

Crowley stood with at least a dozen demons off to one side of the empty field where they’d gathered. Castiel and Sidria stood between them and the hunters, a random group of men and women that numbered near twenty or so. There were even more on the way, but they’d been across the nation, so they’d be the additional reserves yet to come. It was more than Bobby had expected, he’d said, and he’d seemed stunned that they’d all come because he’d asked for help. Personally, Castiel thought that Bobby truly didn’t understand how important he was sometimes.

Then again, neither did Dean, nor Sam. And the hunters had all come when Bobby called because the Winchesters needed them. From the thoughts he could see swirling in the minds of the hunters, when each of them inevitably asked themselves why they were working alongside demons, there was a memory that involved Dean or Sam. A time when the Winchesters had come through for them and helped them, saved them, for no other reason than they’d asked for help. It was a debt repaid out of loyalty, a debt because they cared and considered the brothers people worth helping, and Castiel committed the memories to his own thoughts for Dean and Sam to see later.

But while they were willing to follow for Dean and Sam’s sake, it was clear that they didn’t trust the demons one bit. Honestly, Castiel didn’t either, but they didn’t have much of a choice. The demons would give them the edge against the angels, and might divert some of the attention from the humans. As long as the demons didn’t turn on the hunters.

Or the hunters didn’t take the opportunity to remove some demons from the Earth. Their weapons were blessed enough to do some damage to angels and demons alike, and it was only a matter of time before they figured that out.

“Little tense here,” Meg muttered from beside him. She seemed casual at first glance, but he could see that she, too, was worried about the same thing he was. It was…interesting, to feel the same as a demon. Though it was clear that Meg was no ordinary demon.

“I’m not sure who would strike first,” Sidria said, pitching her voice equally low. “I think this is where Dean would “put money” as he’d say.”

Meg’s lips curled up. “Ten dollars one of the hunters takes a potshot first.”

Castiel certainly understood gambling, and that wasn’t a bet he wanted to take. _Ezekiel, the Harvelles need to keep the hunters at bay,_ he prayed, and he got a terse nod from the other angel.

A dark presence came up behind him, and Castiel merely turned to the King of Hell. “Are these angels of yours going to show?” Crowley asked. “I highly doubt all of us want to hunker down here for much longer on the off-chance that Metatron will strike now.”

“There’s no reason for them to _not_ strike now,” Castiel said. If there was one thing he was absolutely certain about, it was that Metatron would send a fleet of angels. He wondered, briefly, if having humanity stand beside demons would make things worse in considering humanity as worth saving, but they were well past that point. Numbers were more important than the opinions of angels.

“Cas,” Bobby called, and even as Castiel turned, there was a sudden flurry of wings. Castiel spun around, blade already in hand, pushing Meg slightly behind him. Sidria took up his other side, and Ezekiel stood beside Jo, also keeping her behind his wing.

The entire fleet of angels in front of them made Castiel’s stomach swoop low within him, and his Grace shuddered violently, betraying his anxiety. Too many. There were too many.

They were going to get ripped apart.

It made him ache all the more to see his garrison in the midst of the angels, Hannah tall and proud, the other ten or so of his angels spread out amongst the rest of the group. Castiel’s hand tightened around his blade.

On their side, the hunters had suddenly gone silent as well, and their weapons, a varying array of guns and swords, all aimed out at the angels. The cars and trucks they’d driven up to create a single barrier line between them and the angels was only going to last so long, but it would be better than nothing.

Yet the strongest was the sigil that Gabriel had burned into the grass beneath them, a massive thing that mixed pagan elements and Enochian into a fiery talisman of protection. It would slow the angels down at the very least. And, hopefully, Gabriel’s clear presence in it would make them pause, too.

“Castiel,” one of the angels called out. Nathaniel, a captain in his own right, moved forward towards them. Several guns cocked at the same time, and he stopped. Meg gave a short huff of laughter behind him, and Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed in disgust. “Was it not enough for you to stand with humanity; now you must also consort with demons?”

“At least I know where I stand with them,” Castiel told him. “Where do you stand, brother?”

“Following Heaven’s orders,” another angel behind him spat. Tabbris, always too loud and proud; Castiel wasn’t surprised to hear or see him in this flock. “Following the Word of God.”

“The Word’s been poisoned,” Sidria shot back. “You follow a false God. Metatron has deceived everyone.”

Tabbris snorted derisively, but Nathaniel seemed uncertain. Hopeful, Castiel took a step forward, even though Sidria inhaled sharply and Meg cursed behind him. “She’s telling you the truth. Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel are even now facing him down. We’re trying to make Heaven what it was supposed to be: a refuge of peace and safety, of holy might. We were meant to protect the world and its people, not destroy it.”

“So where is Lucifer?” Hannah asked. Castiel stopped, glancing at her, and found her face empty of any emotion. Her Grace, too, was closed off, and he couldn’t get a read on her. “Was he not freed from the Cage?”

“Metatron’s got him as a hostage,” Meg said. The wings of the angels rose in varying degrees, clearly ready to attack. Meg just shrugged like it didn’t bother her. “Well, you asked. C’mon, is there any other reason that Michael would fight so damn hard if it wasn’t for his little brother?”

It was truth and a pointed note all in one, and Castiel wondered if perhaps Crowley hadn’t made the right move to evict Meg from Hell. She would be a powerful tactician when she wanted to be, and she probably would’ve taken the throne.

“But you stand with demons,” Tabbris said again. “I would rather follow another angel than stand here with humans who have turned from what is right!”

“You want ‘right’?” Ellen called. Her shotgun hadn’t changed height at all, held solid and true in her grasp. “You think a prophecy, meant to destroy Earth, wipe out the people you’re supposed to be watchin’ over, and killin’ a pair of brothers is ‘right’? If that’s what passes for right in Heaven, then I think I’ll stand over with the black-eyed bastards, thanks very much.”

The demons took a single step forward as a core group, bolstered by her words, and Crowley actually smirked. “I knew I liked her,” he murmured.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Castiel said sharply, then turned his attention back to Nathaniel, who still hadn’t spoken. “Nathaniel, listen to me. We need your help. There’s a traitor in Heaven and he’s trying to lead everyone, trying to rule over all of us. He’s not the Word of God or anything close to it. And he’s going to destroy all of us and everything we’ve ever fought for.”

“Raphael smote you,” Nathaniel pointed out, and Castiel felt like rolling his eyes. He’d definitely hung out with Gabriel and Dean far too much, but seriously? That was the point everyone kept coming back to?

“He clearly got better,” Sidria said, apparently as fed up as he was, and he could hear Bobby cough over what was clearly a laugh. “He was brought back for a purpose, Nathaniel. We were all of us deceived, all of us reeducated, because he wanted us as slaves beneath him!”

“The reeducations were to remind us of what we were meant to be!” Tabbris cried. “We were meant to serve Heaven’s orders, no matter what they might be!”

He raised his blade and aimed it straight at Castiel. “Right now, those orders are to remove you and your demonic compatriots from the Earth, then deal with the humans. And that’s an order I intend to follow.”

Even as he pulled his wings together, even as several other angels did the same, even as Meg tensed and the hunters put their fingers to the triggers, even as Castiel shoved his own wings out in defense, a blade swung forward and rested against Tabbris’s neck. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Hannah said quietly.

Castiel froze. “Hannah, what are you doing?” Tabbris hissed. “Release me!”

All of Castiel’s garrison had their blades out, subduing the angels who had been ready to fight. “Sorry we’re late,” Hannah said, glancing at Castiel with a smile. Her Grace was no longer closed off but open, and it was clear that his garrison had hidden their true intentions, because her Grace was warm and inviting to Castiel. “But we’re here now.”

“Your angels are a sneaky bunch,” Meg noted, and Castiel let out a sharp laugh of relief.

It wasn’t over, though. And it would prove disastrous to consider it as such.

He moved forward, slowly, towards Nathaniel, who still looked undecided. “Nathaniel,” he called softly. “Don’t do this. You know, deep down inside, that what Metatron’s doing is wrong. That Heaven’s supposed orders have been wrong for a long time.”

“Then what are we to do?” Nathaniel asked, almost helplessly. “Who are we supposed to follow?”

It was too much to ask that they follow their own desires, and hypocritical, too. Besides which, there was a far better answer waiting. “Follow Michael’s lead,” Castiel said. “Follow Lucifer’s. They need us, now more than ever. They’ve spent the last who knows how many years fighting against this and they can’t do it alone.”

“There are others who will do the bidding of Heaven,” Tabbris sneered. “And they’ve already gone on to deal with the other humans who planned to be here.”

He hadn’t counted on Metatron dividing to conquer, for guessing so well what they’d do. “Bobby,” he called frantically, but the man had already pulled out his cell phone to start calling.

Nathaniel moved forward, no longer uncertain but instead stalwart and sure. “We’ll be faster, Robert. And we’ll deal with them.”

It took Castiel a moment to understand just what he’d heard. Then it flooded through him, relief and hope and joy because _yes_. “Thank you,” he said in a gusting exhale, and Nathaniel gave a half-smile.

“I trust you, Castiel. And I believe in the archangels, all of them. I have to. Because we are meant to protect and guide humanity. It’s something I fear we lost along the way in facing the evils they could do, the wars they could wage against one another.”

He glanced over at Crowley and Meg, and he raised an eyebrow. “Yet I see that they’ve done what we could not. They have managed to unite Hell and Heaven for a singular cause.”

“Damn straight we did,” Bobby said firmly. “And we did it for Dean and Sam.”

Nathaniel nodded and turned to his own garrison. “Fly with me,” he said, and pulled his wings together. In an instant they were gone, hurtling off through the air in search of other angels.

Hannah and the others didn’t remove their blades. Tabbris looked far less sure of himself without the bulk of the angels there. “And what about us?” he asked, trying to assert himself as powerful.

The joy that Castiel had felt burned like sunshine through him, giving him strength and righteous fury as he stared Tabbris down. “It’s your choice,” he said. “You can surrender, or you can risk getting blown to bits. Because I won’t hold the humans or the demons back, and I can assure you, their weapons are blessed to handle you and then some.”

Tabbris went a little pale, and his Grace dimmed. The other angels immediately dropped their blades, and after a long moment, Tabbris did the same.

“I love you,” Meg said a bit breathlessly.

Castiel found his lips turning up at the idea. “You only love me for my violent side,” he told her.

“Oh god,” Bobby muttered. “I’ll be sick if you don’t stop flirtin’. That’s just wrong.”

“That’s what I said,” Crowley said, making a face. “It doesn’t seem to have deterred them any. I’m fairly certain that Feathers is doing it to aggravate me.”

Ellen let out a hearty laugh while Bobby rolled his eyes, and all Castiel could see were the angels coming forward towards him. Hannah led the way with the rest of his garrison, and even though the hunters gave them a berth, there was a reverence on the face of nearly every human there. Every human that was alive, every angel that stood tall and strong, and Heaven help him, even every demon that waited at the ready, they were all still there. Metatron’s plan hadn’t worked.

He could only hope that it was going as well in Heaven as it was down below. _Please, God, if you can hear me, let them get Lucifer out._

_Please, Michael, Dean, be safe._


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm clearly an impatient sort. Because I needed to get this chapter up.
> 
> This is the one you've been waiting for. The big fight, the finale. 
> 
> And one last surprise at the end.

Another slash, another dodge, another strike and blow. The wall took the damage instead of Dean’s head, and he rolled away, blade up to defend again.

Metatron had been right about one thing, at least. The fight between the two of them would’ve taken Earth out in a few broad strokes.

As it was, with only one of them truly fighting, there were parts of Heaven that were being dealt serious blows, and it was something that shouldn’t have even been able to be done. Angels had waged many a sparring match in Heaven with no destruction caused anywhere, even the matches that had gotten out of control.

Maybe it was because of the intent. Angels had sparred to learn, never to truly do harm to one another. Lucifer? Lucifer was out for blood.

The lance cut a little too close, and Dean darted backwards, startled out of his wandering thoughts. Not the time, not the time, not with Lucifer already whipping the lance behind him and raising it above his head again. Dean swung his blade up to deflect and the resulting clash sent sparks flying and destroyed the lights above them. The hit resonated up through his arm, his Grace recoiling at both the blow and who it was from.

Lucifer’s Grace made no response. He’d buttoned it up nice and tight, and Dean knew Metatron was responsible for that. Because Dean knew if he had half a chance of getting to Lucifer’s Grace, he could reach out and get his brother back. He _knew_ it.

The lance swung again, faster than before, and Dean barely got the blade up to defend himself. “Sammy,” he said through gritted teeth, grimacing as he pushed back against Lucifer’s strength. “ _Sam_!”

“Stop _calling_ me that,” Lucifer snapped, and pressed the lance closer to Dean. “That name belongs to a worthless human, a weak human. I am not _weak_.”

Dean felt his fury fill in where his desperation had been, because what gave him the fucking right to tear into his little brother? “Sam Winchester is not, and has never been, _worthless_ or _weak_.” With a growl he pushed Lucifer back and finally swung a blade out at his head. Lucifer dodged it easily and came back with another parry.

Through it all, the bastard of a scum bucket waited on the sidelines, watching, _enjoying._ Because he was getting his way, ultimately. Either Lucifer would kill Michael because he wasn’t fighting back, or Michael would finally fight back and the resulting fight would have to be taken to Earth.

And the last thing Dean wanted was to fight his little brother. The very thought made his stomach twist, even as he dodged another swing. Lucifer wasn’t stopping, though, and Dean could only play defense for so long. He refused to fight him. He _refused_.

At least he wasn’t getting tired. They’d been doing this for hours, though it could’ve been days. His world had sort of narrowed to the lance coming at him, bringing his blade up to defend, Lucifer’s angry yet still empty face, a void where the Grace should’ve been. Time meant nothing. There _was_ nothing. Nothing but Lucifer bearing down on him, hate in his eyes where he’d never seen it there before.

His little brother had to still be in there, though. He had to be. The reeducation that had been done to him could be reversed, just as Raphael’s had.

The lance came up again and Dean blocked it, but realized suddenly that it was the handle, not the spear tip. In an instant sharp, hot pain seared across his chest. He cried out as he fell, blade still tight in his sweating palm.

It hurt, it burned, and he thought he’d throw up. He managed to look up at Lucifer who stood above him, a resolute executioner. Blood hung from the tip of the lance, and though it had only been a striking blow, it still burned in him. The slow death for one who was good, not the quick death promised to the wicked, but at the moment, Dean would’ve done just about anything to make the fire stop.

It seemed Lucifer agreed with him, because the lance came up, aimed at Dean’s throat. “Do it, Lucifer,” Metatron urged, suddenly truly invested. “Kill him before he kills you!”

As if Dean would’ve ever been able to hurt his brother, much less kill him. Something that looked like it was going to be the end of him.

Lucifer’s eyes were dark and dangerous, and there was no warmth in them, nothing except the cold hatred he’d fixed on Dean. Yet all Dean could see was the kid who’d followed him with his floppy hair and his sweet smile, the man who’d become the best hunting partner he could’ve asked for. His best friend, his kid, his little brother.

The fire burned through him, rippling through his Grace, but he still managed to get the words out. “S’okay, Sammy,” he choked out. “S’not you, I know that. It’s okay, Luce. I know, little brother. I know. S’okay. M’not leavin’. I promise.”

_I love you._

Lucifer raised the lance and rammed it forward.

A ringing sound was all the warning Dean got before Lucifer suddenly flew backwards against an already damaged wall. The lance went flying next, landing in the corner opposite of Metatron. Metatron dove backwards and away, startled, staring behind Dean. Dean whipped his head around, gasping in pain as he did so.

Gabriel stood, his face resolute, and his wings raised in glorious splendor. He didn’t tremble, he didn’t shake. He was powerful, not a hint of trickster about him, just glorious and beautiful Grace and might, and Dean had never been so proud of him.

Beside him stood a little black girl, hair in several braids with colorful beads on the ends. She wore a red Wonder Woman shirt and she looked to be no more than maybe six years old. Dean’s eyes widened even as the little girl walked towards him and laid a hand on his head. The burning pain from the lance faded to nothing in an instant, faster than he’d ever been healed, revealing the power of the being in front of him.

But Dean knew had known the being in her eyes already, the brilliant blue flash giving him away. _Raphael_.

Metatron stared in honest shock. “Who is she?” he managed when he found his voice.

“My True Vessel,” Raphael said, voice painfully young. “I wouldn’t try casting me out now. It won’t end well for you. Actually, none of this is going to end well for you.”

“Not really, no,” Gabriel said tightly. “So give me back my big brother and you can die fast.”

Lucifer glared at them from his position on the floor. “There is no ‘giving back’,” he hissed. “And remember, when I kill you, that I gave you a chance.”

Gabriel didn’t shy away, just twirled his blade. “You can try,” he said. “But I’m getting you back, bro. And we’re all walking out of here.”

Lucifer turned then to Raphael, head tilted. “Of all of them that I expected to understand, it was you, Raphael. You’re the most logical of us all.”

“Yes,” Raphael said. “Trust me, Lucifer. I _completely_ understand what you’re going through.” He glanced at Dean before glancing away, moving aside to let Dean up. Gabriel came to join him, three united angels ready to mete out justice and rescue their brother.

Because they knew. Relief flooded Dean and he turned to his brother, who even now was trying to rise from the floor.

Metatron, on the other hand, looked even angrier than before. “Get them!” he shouted.

Raphael raised one small hand, palm outstretched, and his eyes glowed. Metatron immediately went silent, eyes wide. “Much better,” Raphael said smugly. “And you can stay there, too.”

“How did you _do_ that?” Gabriel asked, equally as surprised.

“I don’t know. It was Evie’s idea. She called it a “time-out” and suggested it for dealing with troublemakers.”

Raphael’s True Vessel was a powerhouse. A pint-sized powerhouse, but a powerhouse nonetheless.

One down. Just Lucifer to go.

Lucifer glared at them all as he stood. “I can take all three of you,” he said confidently.

Yeah, definitely messed with, because Sam and Lucifer both would’ve understood the odds as unfavorable. “Not too bright, are you?” Gabriel said with a raised eyebrow. Lucifer snarled and dove towards the lance. He caught hold of it and then startled back as it suddenly turned into a long balloon.

Gabriel just shrugged. “Wasn’t my best effort, but, y’know, thinking on my feet here.”

The lance was gone, then, and Gabriel had it, and it was the best-case scenario Dean could’ve hoped for. Lucifer recovered fast and pulled his blade out, racing towards Dean.

Dean went to block but Gabriel was faster, parrying and shoving Lucifer off. Lucifer went in again, getting closer than Dean was comfortable with, but this time Raphael swung above his vessel’s tiny frame and slammed the blade out of the way. Dean’s blade came up next, preventing Lucifer from gaining ground.

It was enough to set Lucifer back two feet, and they pressed the advantage, swinging blades and dodging blows. Unfortunately, Lucifer may not have been just boasting: he was more than a match for all of them with his longer arms and powerful strength of his bright Grace. The other problem was that they weren’t trying to hurt Lucifer, just disarm him, and Lucifer was fighting them to kill.

Dean finally managed a lucky blow and caught the blade, along with part of Lucifer’s palm. Lucifer cried out as his blade went sailing, and part of him dimmed with the loss. Dean flinched at his brother’s pain but forced himself to press the advantage. His hand could be healed and his blade returned.

Getting his brother back had this one opportunity and they weren’t going to miss it.

“Now!” Dean shouted but Gabriel and Raphael were already there. Lucifer realized too late what was happening as they all caught hold of him. He twisted and tried to shove them away, but Dean refused to let go from where he’d caught Lucifer’s arms. He slid one hand down to the bleeding palm and squeezed as hard as he could, half to hold on, half to try and staunch the bleeding. “Just hold on, Sammy,” he promised as his brother struggled. “I’ve got you, little brother.”

“No! _No!_ ”

The room suddenly flooded with a painfully bright light, and Dean found himself flung away from Lucifer, from Sam. His head rang and he tried to clear his vision and his hearing, both of which were still ringing and buzzing. Vaguely he could make out the shapes of his other brothers, Sam sprawled on the ground in one corner, Gabriel trying to wrap around Raphael as a shield in the other.

“ **No** ,” Metatron said again as he stood, vibrant and _furious_ in the middle of the room. “I have not spent decades, centuries, _millennia_ putting this all together for four children to ruin it now. I am your new God, and you will do as I command.”

“You’re not God,” Dean spat. “You’re just a hack writer. I’ve read cheap porn better than your crap.”

Metatron’s eyes flared pure white, and Dean suddenly flashed back to Lilith. “I’ve been writing his Word for longer than you’ve existed, Michael. In fact, I’ve been doing it for so long that I have his voice down perfectly. No one can tell the difference.”

In an instant he was there, towering over Dean, and then his hand was around Dean’s throat. Even as Dean pushed back, even as Michael struggled, Metatron’s grip only tightened further. Stars filled his vision and he choked, struggling for air. “Michael!” Gabriel shouted from somewhere. “ _Dean_!”

“I’d intended on you having a bigger role in things,” Metatron mused, like he wasn’t lifting Dean off the ground with a single hand. Dean tried to pry his fingers away, tried to kick or punch, but his lungs burned and his vision began to go black. “But sometimes, a character just needs to die.” He pulled his blade up and swung it towards Dean’s chest.

A sudden, final gasp. Eyes burned bright before they lost their light, and Grace exploded out into nothing. He hit the ground, lifeless.

Dean also hit the ground, choking and coughing for air. Beside him, Metatron lay, eyes open and sightless, gaping wound in his chest. Even as Dean fought to get air back in, his eyes went straight up.

Sam stood above Metatron’s body, bloody lance in hand. He kept flinching, fingers twitching, entire body shaking. But his eyes…

Slowly Dean pushed himself to his feet, throat burning. “Sammy?” he croaked.

Sam’s eyes shot to his. The warmth, the _being,_ that Dean had been looking for was there. This was his little brother, somehow, some impossible way. Somehow, Sammy had fought his way back.

The look on Sam’s face was all pain and anguish, and even as Dean watched, he flinched violently again, then shuddered. “I, I can’t hold it back,” he whispered. “It’s tearing, it’s ripping me apart, I can’t, Dean _help_ -“

“Gabriel, Raphael, _now_ ,” Dean barked with what little voice he had, then caught his little brother by the arm. “Luce, drop the lance.”

There was no fight this time, just trembling fingers dropping the weapon like it was worthless. Gabriel and Raphael moved in, each taking a side of Lucifer. Lucifer flinched again, eyes flashing red like sparks. “Michael, hurry, I can’t-“

“I’ve got you,” Michael soothed. “I’ve got you, little brother. Just…just hold on.” He began to dig in but found Lucifer pushing back, just a little. “Luce-“

“If you…if you can’t,” he said hesitantly, but Michael knew exactly where he was going, and he shook his head firmly. “If you can’t undo it, then-“

“Not happening,” Gabriel said angrily. “We’re all getting out of here.”

But Lucifer’s eyes shone, and Michael swallowed at the despair there. Lucifer knew the damage that had been done. He knew what damage _could_ be done, what the carnage would look like if he couldn’t be saved. _Please, Michael. Promise me._

It was an impossible promise. The last time Lucifer had demanded such a promise, he’d wound up in the Cage.

_Michael-!_

Raphael’s call was enough to galvanize him into action. “I promise to get you out of this,” he said instead. Lucifer flinched again and then cried out, and that was all Michael needed. He dove in.

Black. Black everywhere, not a single bit of Lucifer’s Grace left to be seen. _What the fuck did Metatron do?_ Gabriel asked, aghast. _This is, this is-_

_This is complete annihilation,_ Raphael said, stunned. _He rewrote every part of Lucifer. He took every part of his Grace and violated it._

No wonder Lucifer had cried out when he’d lost the blade. It was the last part of his Grace he had. _Raphael, can you grab-_

_There’s nothing to grab, Michael,_ Raphael said, almost gently. _I’m sorry._

It took a moment for what Raphael was implying to sink in, and Michael stopped, frozen. There was nothing left of his little brother. Lucifer was gone, this last moment of sanity a tiny flame about to wink out forever.

_Dean…I’m sorry._ A soft voice, maybe the last he would ever hear of his little brother.

…No.

_No._

No, not like this. Sam was still in there and it wasn’t too late. It was never too late.

Dean’s anger suddenly flared, and he pushed further into the black. _Michael!_ Gabriel called, frantically now. _Michael, no!_

Michael wasn’t listening anymore. Dean kept pushing and pushing, and then there was no Gabriel, no Raphael, just the black. It threatened to consume him, but he kept going.

Because it hadn’t been the Grace of the blade that had caught Lucifer’s attention, had pulled Sam to the surface. Sam had pulled himself out to save Dean.

It was Dean’s turn to save his brother.

Black filled his every sense, black that had once been beautiful Grace, brighter than anything else in creation. It had been burned away, scarred beyond recognition, and Dean kept desperately looking for his little brother. _Sam!_ he shouted into the black. _Sammy! Lucifer!_

The black began to push in, as if eager to consume another bright Grace. It was too late to pull back, too late to do anything except keep pushing while it blocked him in and trapped him. He couldn’t give up now. He couldn’t. _Sammy!_ he called one last time as he choked on the black.

And miraculously, it was the cry for help that Sam heard and answered again.

A tendril of Grace wrapped around him, pulling him free. It wasn’t Grace, though, he realized: it was a soul. Sam’s soul. _Sammy._

_I’m here,_ Sam whispered. _Dean, I can’t-_

_You can’t, but I can. I have you. Hold on and don’t you dare let go._

_You’ll drown down here. Dean, get out of here, just go!_

_I’m not leaving you. We promised, remember? Remember how I wouldn’t let go before? How I was willing to fall into the Cage with you?_

_Oh god no, you, you stupid asshole-_

_I’m not letting go. So don’t you dare let go. You hear me, little brother? Don’t let go. We go together._

The soul tightened its grip. Dean dug in and _pulled_.

Light flared around them as he pulled, and it felt like Sam’s hand in his, holding on as tight as he could. Dean wrapped his fingers around just as tight, knowing he was the only thing keeping Sam tethered, the only lifeline. If he let go, Sam was gone, forever. He’d lose his little brother for good.

So he held on. He held on while the light grew brighter and brighter, while his Grace burned inside of him and around him until he felt like he was on fire. He was burning up but he still had a hold of Sam and that was all that mattered.

Then the fire consumed him and he knew nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a happy ending coming. You've waited this long; hold on for me.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo boy. Not sure how many of y'all are going to be thrilled with this, but it's a loooong chapter at the least. I hope you guys enjoy it; you've earned the comfort aspect for sure.

Cold. Everything was cold, and he was missing something. Something he needed, something he’d lost-

“No, Michael, they’re there, your wings are there I promise, stop pulling at them you need to _rest_.”

No, not those, not what he’d lost, where was what he needed, what he couldn’t lose? Where?

“Michael, please, stay still-“

“Raph, move.”

“Gabriel-“

“Dean, he’s here. Sam’s here. You’re gonna be all right and so is he. Rest. We’re here, and Sam’s safe.”

That. That was what he’d needed. He let go again.

The next time he woke up, cognizance returned with it. He knew who he was and where he was, for the most part. He could feel his wings and he could feel-

Cold? He reached out for his brother’s warmth.

Gone. He wasn't there.

Michael’s eyes shot open.

Raphael stood above him, though barely, given his shorter stature. “Michael, can you hear me?” he asked, voice young and light.

“Luce,” he croaked. “I can’t, I can’t feel Luce, Sammy, where’s-“

“He’s here.” Raphael stepped away and he could see Lucifer laid out on one of the beds in what looked like the spare bedroom at Bobby’s, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a natural rhythm. Alive.

Michael sank back into his own bed and shut his eyes tight. “What’s wrong with him?” he whispered.

“He’s exhausted and nearly died,” Raphael said sternly. It didn’t exactly work with the little girl voice but Michael knew better than to cross him, especially in his true vessel. “As did you. He’ll be awake in a short bit, I imagine, since you’re up.”

“No,” Michael said, and he began to rise. He hissed as every single part of him woke up and told him how much he ached. Oh damn did he hurt _everywhere_. Worse than that time he’d fallen asleep on the beach in Florida and wound up with third degree sunburns. Treating that had been a bitch.

Focus. He had to focus. “No, I meant, I can’t feel his Grace,” Michael said. “Where he usually is, it’s just empty.” He tried to reach out again and got nothing. “Raph, what’s wrong with his Grace?”

Because he’d fought so hard to get Lucifer back, even when all he’d been left was a tiny soul fighting against whatever Metatron had done to him. But he’d gotten him out, hadn’t he? His nerves all sang with pain and insinuated that yeah, he’d done it. And there was his little brother, living, breathing proof.

It was then that he realized Raphael hadn’t said anything back. “Raphael?” he asked quietly.

His brother stood, completely still, and when he raised his head, his eyes were dark and full of despair. “Michael, can you feel me?”

Michael frowned. “Yeah, of course-“ and he reached out to where Raphael always was.

Except there was nothing. Michael frowned deeper and tried again.

Nothing.

His heart began to beat faster in his chest, a heavy _thud thud_ that could be felt all the way up through his neck. Frantically he tried to find Gabriel, but there was nothing but an emptiness where his brother’s Grace usually resided.

He couldn’t feel any Grace at all. There were no echoes, nothing but his own racing heart and the panic that began to steal his breath.

“Michael, breathe,” Raphael said in his no-nonsense tone. “I need you to breathe for me.”

“Why can’t I feel you?” Michael gasped. “What the hell happened?”

“You blew out.”

Michael turned to where Gabriel stood in the doorway. His youngest brother had never looked so exhausted before, but his smile was genuine. “You blew out,” he said again. “I don’t know what exactly you did. But the next thing we knew, you’d gone further into the black void, and then suddenly your Grace just…exploded. Sent us both flying backwards.”

“By the time we reached you, you were both unconscious,” Raphael said. “Alive, breathing, but out for the count. You’ve both been out for nearly two days Earth time.”

“I sent Cassie to catch up with Singer, tell him we were at his place, and to generally convey what happened. So the old man wouldn’t panic.”

Yeah, because that wouldn’t cause Bobby to not panic. But that meant Bobby was all right, too, and whatever suicide plan they’d come up with had worked. “They’re all right,” Gabriel promised. “Boy does Castiel have a hell of a story to tell you.”

“Sam?” he asked because he couldn’t think about anything else. He couldn’t.

Raphael understood, thank hell, and nodded. “It’s gone. The blackness that had swallowed Lucifer whole, it’s completely gone. It’s just his soul now.”

Michael felt his heart race even more. “His too?” he whispered. But that meant…

“It’s not all gone,” Raphael said. “You still have a meager amount of Grace that Gabriel managed to contain. You both do. But…”

“But what?”

Raphael began to speak, then stopped. “It’s not coming back online,” Gabriel finally said gently. “Your Grace won’t recharge. It’s just sitting at low battery. You didn’t Fall exactly, but you’re nearly there. We tried to get you up to Heaven but your souls started separating at the edges of your bodies.” He flinched at that. “We didn’t want to risk actually killing you instead of healing you. So we kept you down here.”

“We haven’t told the other angels,” Raphael said quietly. “Heaven and the angels only know that the corrupt influence is dead and we’re safe. The angels that stood beside Metatron are in Heaven’s prison for the time being until we can decide what’s best to deal with them. Gabriel already tried donating his Grace-“

Michael’s eyes shot to his little brother. “Gabe-“

In an instant Gabriel’s eyes flashed gold. “Don’t you _dare_ tell me what I can and cannot do with my Grace,” he snarled. His gentleness was gone, and in its place was the righteous wrath of an archangel. “I can heal and come back from giving off some Grace. And if it would help you both, then fan-fucking-tastic.”

“It didn’t work,” Raphael finally cut in. “It just disappeared. The same with Lucifer.”

Somewhere in his chest, his heart was still beating, but Michael couldn’t feel it anymore. Everything was just numb. He sat up and startled at the feel of his wings, slight but evident. All six hung around him, exhausted and in as much pain as the rest of him, but still there. It felt like tissue hanging off of his back, not the strong and sure limbs he knew so well. He hadn’t lost them yet.

Everything else, though, seemed to be gone.

He tried again to reach out for Gabriel and Gabriel shook his head. “Stop it, you moron. You need to conserve what you’ve got.”

“Why? It’s not coming back online,” Michael said stubbornly. “Let’s skip to the end where I just get rid of the last bits of it and Fall for good. This halfway between stage pretty much sucks.”

“We were hoping that with you conscious, it might return,” Raphael said, scowling at him. “And then maybe you can help us with Lucifer.”

He had him with his little brother’s name and they all knew it. “Fine,” Michael, _Dean_ , muttered, because what was the point of being Michael if he wasn’t an angel?

Gabriel’s hand hit the back of his head and Dean glared at him. Gabriel glared right back. “Knock it the fuck _off_. Throw a pity party later. You’re still my brother and I don’t care if you lose the wings or not. You’re still Michael. And you always will be.”

He’d said as much to Gabriel before they’d gotten their Graces back. _You’re stuck with me._ Somehow, even though his head now hurt _worse_ than before, it helped settle him. His heart rate began to slow, and he let out a shaky breath. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Gabriel snorted and then lunged, wrapping him up in a tight embrace. “You’re alive,” he said, and Dean could hear him swallow back his emotions. “That’s all we care about, got it?”

“And so is Lucifer,” Raphael said firmly. “The rest is, as you would say, small tubers.”

“Potatoes, Raph,” Gabriel said with a shaky laugh. “Small potatoes.”

A bell sounded, and Raphael shook himself. “I need to return Evangeline,” he said. “Evie’s got a long day ahead of her tomorrow. I’ll be back with Toni next for the weekend.”

“So you’re just, what, swapping out?” Dean asked.

“I can’t just take Evie all the time. She’s in first grade. But she’s given me a huge boost to my power, and she hasn’t minded helping out.” He paused, and his lips turned up. “She says to say hi and that you need to watch your language, Gabriel, or she’ll tell her Aunt Toni on you.”

“Earmuffs,” Gabriel said. “Got it.”

Dean felt his own lips try for a smile, but then his eyes fell on Lucifer. On Sam. Sam, who still didn’t know about the Graces. “This is going to suck,” he murmured.

“Oh yeah,” Gabriel agreed. “It’s going to massively suck the big one.”

It didn’t take Sam much longer to wake up. Unfortunately, that was the last bit of easy they had.

Gabriel was there for a small part of the waking. Sam’s surprise at being awake, being _alive_ , hurt almost as much as the joy when he realized that he was free of whatever the hell Metatron had done to him.

Then he must’ve tried to send a thought, or move his wings, or something. Because in one instant, his joy changed to bewilderment and then horror, and the panic and anxiety that flowed through him was enough to make Gabriel flinch.

Then he looked at Gabriel and guilt and shame joined the mix. That was when Dean tossed Gabriel out of the room and told him to go find Raphael.

Which he did, because even though Dean wasn’t full-on archangel, he was still Gabriel’s big brother, and he’d listen. He’d do as he was told.

…Okay, maybe he’d send a prayer to Raphael instead of going to fetch him directly, but there was only so much a guy could do when his big brother was in there trying to console his _other_ big brother, because there was no doubt in Gabriel’s head that was exactly what Dean was trying to do right then and there.

Sometime later, either half an hour or two minutes, Gabriel couldn’t have said, the door opened and Dean stepped out. Gabriel began to enter, neatly side-stepping him, but Dean caught him by the arm. “Don’t,” he said quietly.

“I need to talk to him,” Gabriel insisted, but Dean shook his head. “Dean-“

“He just needs to…he needs time.”

There was so much that Gabriel had to tell him, though. _I don’t hate you_ and _I know it wasn’t you_ and _I’m still here_. All the things his brother needed to hear, based on how he’d reacted to seeing Gabriel.

A sob burst through, muffled though it was, and Dean flinched. Gabriel pushed the advantage but Dean kept him at bay with hardly any effort at all. Honestly, if Gabriel didn’t know better, he’d have said his brother had all his Grace at hand with the strength he used. “You’d leave him alone?” Gabriel demanded.

Dean flinched again but tightened his grip. “Right now? Yeah, I would. And if I went in there, or you went in there, he’d stop. And he needs to grieve.”

“We’ll get it back,” Gabriel said, voice low and determined.

He didn’t get a response, which was sort of an answer in and of itself. “Hey,” Gabriel said firmly, letting his Grace back him up a little in his voice, “ ** _we will_**.”

Dean winced. “Easy on the voice, Gabe. That hurts.”

“Well, you weren’t listening any other way.”

“Gabriel-“

“I said we’ll get it back,” he said again, glaring at Dean. “You listen to me, we’ll figure it out. We’ll get his Grace back, and we’ll get yours too. I don’t know how but I’m not giving up. So quit trying to tell me it can’t be done.”

“I’m not saying it can’t be done,” Dean insisted. “I’m just saying that maybe you need to consider the alternative here. That we won’t get it back online. What happens then?”

Gabriel didn’t even hesitate. “We get you loaded in the Impala and we take off. Saving people, hunting things. It can be an archangel’s business, too.”

The pained look he got just made his ire grow. “Gabe, you’ve got things to do for Heaven-“

“Heaven can fuck right off. There’s nothing more important than my brothers. _Nothing_.”

Dean didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look as desolate, either. He actually looked like he had a spark of life in him again, and slowly he began to nod. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay.”

“And Sam needs to hear that too-“

“Later,” Dean said, and at least there was some determination in the response. “You can’t just throw that at him right now. He won’t respond well. This is the guy who’s been beating himself up for _months_ over the whole demon blood debacle, the guy who immediately takes everything on as his fault and thinks you’re placating him if you try to take it off his shoulders. You go in there right now and tell him that you’re going to drop your wings and ride along with us, and he’s going to feel even _worse_. He won’t see it as a good thing, Gabe. He won’t see it as his little brother trying to help him.”

Another choked sob came through, and Gabriel ached to be in there, to help, to do _something_. Not this…this useless lump who stood outside and listened to his brother cry.

Dean shut his eyes tight. “You can’t go in there, Gabe. Not…not yet.”

“He needs to hear from me-“

“It’s not that.”

Gabriel stopped. “Does this have anything to do with that wave of guilt and shame when he saw me?” he asked quietly.

“Probably,” Dean admitted. “He mentioned what he did to you while he was Metatron’s puppet. Said how the last time you’d looked like that, it had been Asmodeus who’d put that look on your face. And he’d done that instead. You were afraid of him.”

Gabriel shook his head. “No I wasn’t-“

“Yeah you were,” Dean said in a hushed tone. “I saw it, Sam saw it. You had reason to be, all right? Hell, he scared _me_ , and Sam knows that, too.” He made a face and it looked like how Gabriel felt: frustrated, worried, heartbroken. “But I want you in a better place to handle that as opposed to right now, which is a knee-jerk reaction because you’re worried about him.”

All right, so it was a little knee-jerk, the response he had, but dammit he had a good fucking reason. Sam was _hurting_.

But Dean knew Sam better than Gabriel did, had always known Lucifer better than Gabriel had. If Sam needed space to compartmentalize and grieve, then Gabriel needed to give it to him. The last thing he wanted was to make any of this worse.

Slowly Gabriel nodded. “All right. But I’m going in there the first moment it’ll help.”

Dean smiled, just a little thing, but it was a real smile at least. “I know you will. And it’ll be a good thing that you do.”

He headed down the stairs and caught Gabriel’s elbow in a not-so-subtle way, dragging him along. Fine, he could make himself useful. He could cook, he could conjure up a million and one things. He could check in on Cassie, see how Raph was doing.

And he could keep a tendril of Grace extended towards Sam, a distant hand waiting to catch his big brother if he fell.

The door opened, and he stiffened. The last time Dean had come up, he’d mentioned bringing food up with him, and Sam just…he just _couldn’t_. Even the idea of food made him want to be sick.

“That’s because you’re not eating, bright one. I can take care of the nausea, though.”

Sam whipped his head up. Raphael stood, tall and strong in Toni, a small smile just for Sam. “You still haven’t eaten?” he continued. “I don’t know why you won’t let Dean or I bring anything up. Even just some broth or crackers, bright one-“

“Don’t call me that,” Sam said, shaking his head furiously. “Just…just don’t.”

“Lucifer-“

“Don’t call me that either,” and god, were there seriously no other options? Sam Winchester felt bad enough some days, a mantle that had never truly done him any good. Now, it was the only name left to him that didn’t hurt, didn’t make him think of what he’d lost.

Dean hadn’t gone anywhere. Raphael had nudged his way in, but Dean continued to stride into the room that Sam had yet to really leave, stubborn to the end. Sam had looked at his big brother and remembered nearly killing him, wounding him with his own lance, and Dean’s only response had been…forgiveness. Understanding. Love.

Somehow, Dean still wouldn’t let him go. And neither would Raphael, who continuously wormed his way inside his room time and time again. Gabriel-

That, he might’ve lost forever.

A hand rested firmly on his shoulder, jarring him from his dark thoughts. “You haven’t lost anything,” Raphael said. “You are still my little brother, the brightest of us all. Whether that is with your Grace or your soul, it makes no difference. You are Sam, you are Lucifer, you are the same illustrious being who somehow overcame the worst reeducation ever and saved us. You haven’t lost what makes you truly you. I promise.”

Sam felt his face grow hot, his eyes prickling at the sheer amount of love he was being faced with. “But-“

“You’re still _you_ ,” Raphael insisted, and he reached out to cup Sam’s face. “And no one will ever take your place, bright one.”

The tears finally spilled over and he hung his head. Raphael didn’t let go. It felt like a blessing, one he didn’t deserve.

After a long moment there, Raphael pushed Sam’s hair from his face, catching Sam’s attention. “I would encourage you to speak with Gabriel, though. Don’t think we’re not aware that you’ve been avoiding him.”

_Cold eyes discarding Gabriel as useless, giving him an ultimatum that he would always lose, throwing ‘little one’ at him with mockery and disdain. Seeing so much hurt in those vivid eyes before Dean caused him to flee._

“In a little bit,” Sam hedged. Raphael narrowed his gaze and Sam sighed. “How many times have I said that?”

“Four,” Raphael said. “Not that I’ve been counting or anything.”

“You know, you need to stop hanging around Dean so much. I don’t think it’s doing you any good,” Sam pointed out.

He earned a smile for that. “On the contrary. I think it’s done me a world of good. As has hanging out with my little brother.”

Sam ducked his head and felt his cheeks warm. Even now, with barely any Grace left, his wings both invisible and like lead against his back, having done and said horrible things, Raphael still considered him a brother. It was nothing short of humbling.

Raphael sighed and shook his head. “I know that there is little I can do or say that will change your mind, bright one. But know that you are loved. And you always will be.” He then offered Sam a hand and pulled him to his feet. “I have to return Toni, and I do not intend on leaving you alone. If you won’t speak with Gabriel just yet, perhaps Bobby would be an option? He’s out in the living room. Dean is outside, and there is no one else here. So maybe you could eat something?”

Bobby was an option. And with no one else here, he could leave without having to run into someone else. He gave Raphael a grateful smile and followed after him to Bobby’s kitchen. Outside, Dean worked on the Impala. A normal day.

He could work with that.

“Maybe…” He swallowed and glanced into the kitchen, where Bobby sat, coffee in hand. “Maybe some soup?”

“Plenty here,” Bobby said, pulling out a seat for him, and Sam took a deep breath for the first time in what felt like forever.

When he woke, his wings were the first thing he noticed. They ached and he could barely rise under their horrific weight. He tried desperately to push them out as he stood, to shake them loose, but they wouldn’t obey him. He then tried to pull them back to their halfway state, hidden to humanity but within the realm of angels, but they still refused.

He called out for his brother because Michael had to be nearby, Dean had to be there. He pushed open the door and then stopped. Everything was so dark he could barely see. “Dean? Michael!” he called. When had Bobby turned off the heat? He shivered and stepped out into the main room, carefully trying to avoid furniture. Surprisingly, he didn’t hit anything, nor did his wings, heavy and awkward behind him.

“Dean!” he yelled again, then frowned. Why was his voice so soft? He could barely hear himself. “ _Dean_!”

He stumbled forward, panic stealing the breath from his lungs. Something was wrong. Something was so wrong and he didn’t know where his brother was. Where anyone was. “Raphael!” he tried to shout, only for it to come out in a whisper as he fought to breathe. “ _Gabriel_!”

The panic grew, taking away every inch of air he had, or was it the wings, crushing him beneath their weight? They’d never weighed so much before. Slowly he succumbed to their weight and fell to his knees. He was being crushed, there was no air-

Help. He needed help. He forced himself to crawl through the room. There were no chairs to pull himself up on, no sofas to curl up against, no tables, no bookshelves, nothing that he could find in the pitch-black darkness. Something had to be there. “Please,” he gasped, “Michael, Dean, please, help me-“

He crawled another foot before he couldn’t go on. He fell to the floor, sprawled out on his front, arms shaking and trying to go further. “Michael,” he whispered miserably.

There. His fingers brushed against something, and he managed to raise his head in hope. Something cold, something metallic, something-

Something that didn’t move. He wrapped frozen fingers around it and realized it was a long, cylindrical item that had no beginning and no end. A bar.

And just like that, everything came together in horrifying clarity. The Cage. He was back in the Cage.

He had no strength to run or even get himself back to his knees. He pulled them in around himself and felt his beautiful wings push even more on top of him, crushing him to the floor. “Help me,” he whispered, tears spilling from his eyes and freezing on his cheeks. “Someone, please, brothers, help me.”

Then he had no more air and he gasped and gasped to no avail. He couldn’t see in the dark but it didn’t matter, every sense was fading out as his lungs burned for air. Pain blossomed in his chest as he wound up further pushed into the floor.

Something warm brushed against his face. He tried to reach up and catch it but couldn’t get a hold of it. “Please,” he whispered. “ _Please_.”

A voice rang through the air. _I’m here, Luce. I’ve got you. Wake up._

The pain in his chest grew. Another voice spoke. _Breathe, Samshine, breathe!_

Sam opened his eyes and gasped in a huge lungful of air. “Lots of air, plenty of air,” the second voice said, sounding relieved. “Holy shit. Just breathe.”

He pulled in another full chest of air. And then another. “Okay, easy, Sammy,” the first voice said, still sounding panicked. “Don’t hyperventilate on me here.”

His eyes finally focused on what he already knew he’d find: Dean and Gabriel both beside him. “Next time, call me,” Gabriel said. “It’s not like it takes me very long to get here. Y’know. When you call for me.”

“I did,” Dean insisted. “I forgot for a minute, all right?”

Forgot that he couldn’t use his Grace to call, because he didn’t have any. Sam shut his eyes and turned away.

“Hey, hey, _hey_ ,” Dean said, panic entering his voice again. “Luce-“

“Don’t call me that,” Sam whispered. “I’m not, I’m not _him_.”

“Sammy-“

“Out.”

Sam opened his eyes at the same time Dean stared at Gabriel, stunned. “Excuse me?” Dean said.

“I said, out,” Gabriel said again. “Give me five minutes. Don’t make me take you out. You won’t like it.”

Sam stared at him, then felt his jaw drop open when Dean actually stood. “Michael,” he called without thinking, then flinched because Dean wasn’t Michael anymore. Because of him.

“Yeah, see, that’s exactly why I’m kicking our brother out,” Gabriel said firmly.

Dean glanced back before glaring at Gabriel. “Five minutes,” he insisted. “And only because this conversation has been long overdue.”

“Damn straight it has.”

Before Sam could even insert his own opinion as to what he’d like to do, because conversing with Gabriel alone was nowhere near the top 100 things he wanted to do, Dean had left, closing the door quietly behind him, and Gabriel turned to face Sam. Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“You’re wasting your five minutes,” Sam finally muttered.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “First time you’ve talked to me in a week and it’s to bitch me out? Feeling the love here, Sam.”

He was too tired to do this, too tired to deal with Gabriel and the maelstrom of emotions that came with thinking about his youngest sibling. Not his sibling, not…not anymore. No matter what Raphael said, it still felt wrong to claim the angels as his kin. That sent another wave of pain and weariness through him. “Can I just go back to sleep?” he asked. He sounded dead even to his ears.

For a minute, he thought he had Gabriel convinced, his eyes softening. Then suddenly he glared at Sam and crossed his arms. “Nope, sorry, this is happening. Tug on my heart strings all you like but this is for your own damn good.”

Sam narrowed his gaze. Gabriel refused to budge, and Sam could feel his heart begin to pound in his chest. “I’m not trying to tug on anything-“

“Look, I get that what happened was crap,” Gabriel said bluntly. “Trust me, it’s a recurring nightmare on my end, you being Metatron’s puppet, nearly dying after losing 99.99% of your Grace. But I’ve waited and been patient and it’s gotten me fuck-all anywhere. And I’m tired of my big brother wallowing.”

There it was again, a title that Sam didn’t really deserve, not anymore. “That’s not-“

“And you’ve ignored me for almost two weeks now because you’ve been what, embarrassed?“

Sam stared at him, mouth hanging open. “ _Embarrassed_?” he finally managed when he found his voice. “You think I’ve been _embarrassed_?”

Gabriel held out his hands in a, ‘what else?’ sort of manner. “You trying to tell me it was something different?”

Sometimes Gabriel was absolutely brilliant. And other times, he was a dumb as a pile of rocks.

“Ouch, wound me to my core why don’t you.”

“Stay out of my head-“

“Nope, did that, got nowhere, I’m done respecting your privacy because you’re all bashful-“

That was the final straw. “I wasn’t _embarrassed_ , Gabe!” he shouted. “That’s not why I’ve stayed away from you!”

“Then what the hell was it?”

He didn’t have the words. He hadn’t been able to find them in two weeks. So he did the only thing he could: he opened his mind and let Gabriel at it.

The anger at Metatron for what he’d done, the terror as the needle had descended. The self-loathing at what he’d done with his two hands and voice. The despair that his older brother had lost everything, _again_ , because of him. The humiliation every time he tried to reach out to Raphael, or Castiel, or even Gabriel, with his inner voice and was reminded again that he had no Grace.

The anguish every time he thought of his little brother and how he’d turned his nickname into something ugly and wrong.

Gabriel let out a sharp breath that sounded like he’d been punched. “Luce,” he started helplessly, then snarled when Sam turned his gaze away, ashamed. In an instant Gabriel was in front of him, hand catching his chin and forcing him to meet Gabriel’s glowing eyes. “Sam, listen to me. It wasn’t you. You were being possessed and torn apart from the inside out. It wasn’t you.”

“All of this is my fault,” Sam choked out.

Gabriel pursed his lips. “No. This is all Metatron’s fault. And you did the impossible: you broke free and saved Dean, saved all of us. None of us are angry at you, or hate you. We’re all scared out of our fucking minds for you, especially the guy pacing outside the door and literally counting down five minutes on his watch, but we don’t _hate you_. We couldn’t. I couldn’t,” he added with a small smile. “Not even if I wanted to. I love you, big brother.”

Sam made a wounded sound and then Gabriel had him wrapped in his embrace. Something swept across his back and it made Sam hurt all the more because those were Gabriel’s wings, keeping him safe, golden and beautiful and yet he could barely feel them.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Gabe, I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t owe me an apology, Samshine,” Gabriel whispered back. “Not a damn one.”

The door swung open, but there were no footsteps. Dean stood in the doorway, watching with what Sam thought was almost hope. Yeah, probably way overdue.

“Pretty sure I had thirty seconds left,” Gabriel said without looking, and Sam couldn’t help but snort.

Dean just crossed his arms. “It was five minutes by someone’s clock. You’re lucky I gave you that much, given that Sam had stopped breathing, which, by the way, what happened?”

Sam bit his lip as Gabriel let him back away. “The usual,” he said, aiming for casual. “Heavy wings, lack of oxygen, too cold to feel. You know.”

Dean went pale. Gabriel’s eyes widened as he asked, “What, the Cage? You had a nightmare about the Cage? But…”

“I don’t think there’s any part of the Cage left in me,” Sam assured them both. “Just a really vivid nightmare. I’m not cold anymore.” No, he felt perfectly warm. Just a nightmare where he couldn’t use his wings again, and their loss made him swallow hard.

“You still shouldn’t have stopped _breathing_ ,” Dean began, but Gabriel held up his hand. There was a calculating look in his eyes, and Sam watched as his little brother began to puzzle it out.

Little brother. He had to cling to that. He had to.

Gabriel’s lips turned up in approval before he turned back to the topic at hand. “I think…I think the memory may be vivid enough that without the Grace there to keep the strength of even just the memory at bay, it’s going to cause some physical repercussions. It’s not something we’ve had to deal with because you got your Grace back, bam, everything was fine. But that memory isn’t something a soul can deal with on its own, Samshine. The Cage started tearing at your _Grace_. It would’ve done worse to your soul, no matter how strong or bright yours happens to be.”

“So without my Grace, I’m a sitting duck for Cage memories?” Sam asked helplessly. “What am I supposed to do about that?”

“You don’t,” Gabriel said firmly. “ _I_ do. I’ll make sure you don’t have those memories at night until your Grace comes back online, that’s all.”

“How about memories of Hell?” Dean interjected quietly, and Sam shut his eyes at the mere thought of the weeks under Asmodeus’s hand.

Anger flashed across Gabriel’s face along with pain. “Yeah, better to keep those under wraps, too. Though that’s something _you_ can help with, too.”

It took a moment for Sam to realize he was talking to him. “Wait, what? But my soul can’t-“

“I’m not talking about your soul. I’m talking about those psychic powers of yours.”

Sam froze. Even Dean looked taken aback for a moment. Gabriel just raised an eyebrow. “You think those visions of yours only go one way? That’s a level of mental awareness that you _can_ control. We started with the demon stuff and telekinesis out of sheer necessity, but there’s buckets more you can do, starting with seizing hold of dreams and cutting them off at the knees. And I can help you do that.”

He glanced back at Dean then. “Actually, you could help out a lot with that, too.”

“Me?” Dean asked incredulously. “What do I know about any of this stuff?”

“You don’t. But you’re the world’s foremost expert on Samshine here. That counts for a lot.”

That was certainly true. The words certainly changed Dean’s focus, and his answer was almost instantaneous. “Anything I can do, you know I’ll do it.”

It made Sam’s weak grasp on his emotions even weaker, and his eyes burned. His big brother, willing to do anything for him, from helping Sam with psychic powers to letting Sam take the killing blow in order to protect him.

Dean stared straight at him and gave a firm nod, as if he could hear Sam’s thoughts. “Anything, Sammy,” he said.

Gabriel rested a hand on his shoulder. “Who knows? It might help you get your Graces back online, too. At the very least, it’ll keep you safer until they do.”

Sam took a breath. “Okay. Yeah, I can do that. So what do I do first?”

“You sleep,” Gabriel said. “We’ll start tomorrow. But I’ll put you out and keep you safe tonight. So don’t worry about it.”

“I won’t,” Sam said sincerely. He got a warm smile for that, a real Gabriel smile, and then a hand rested on his forehead. The temptation of sleep was suddenly too good to ignore, and he drifted off, never even feeling the two pairs of hands that gently guided him down to the pillow.

In his dreams, he floated, weightless and warm, surrounded by the happiness of those he loved.

When he woke the next morning, darkness hung in the window, and the clock beside him spoke to how early it still was. Dean sat across from him on his own bed, reading a magazine. It made Sam smile at the now familiar sight. No matter how early Dean got up these days, he never left without Sam. Never.

As soon as he realized Sam was up, Dean set aside his magazine and smacked his knee. “C’mon, I hear coffee calling my name. Let’s go see what Gabriel wants to do about food.”

They headed out together and down the stairs. It wasn’t until they reached the bottom that they realized the house was too quiet. No running water, no creaking linoleum, no voices, no banging sounds of cars being worked on outside. No one that Sam could see.

“Dean,” he began, but Dean was already on high alert, hand out to stall Sam from moving any further.

“Bobby? Gabriel?” Dean called. “The hell is everyone?”

“Raph?” Sam added as they moved together towards the library. No, no one else was there. Where had they gone? And _why_? Even as Sam began to pull out his phone, worry growing, he stopped, eyes going wide at the sight in front of him.

Because there, in the middle of Bobby’s living room, stood Chuck Shurley.

Sam blinked. “Chuck?”

“Hi,” said Chuck, except…there was something off about him. Something in his voice.

“Uh, hi,” Sam said, frowning. “Are you okay?”

Dean asked the question he’d been dying to ask. “And what the hell are you doing here? How did you even know _we’d_ be here?”

“Where else would you be?” Chuck asked. It was said in such a soft tone, a calm and quiet presence that Sam hadn’t equated with the prophet before, that he couldn’t help but be taken aback.

Then he froze. Because there was only one being who could sound like that. Only one.

“Father?” he whispered, and Dean froze beside him.

Chuck, no, _Father_ smiled like a benediction, and Sam felt his knees shake. Here. He was here. He was _here_.

“Chuck was gracious enough to allow me to use him as a voice,” Father said. “I took the opportunity to come here and speak with you both, something I’ve been longing to do for…some time now.”

Dean didn’t move. Sam didn’t think either of them breathed.

“Well,” said Father, and he settled on the chair in front of them. “I believe we’re due a conversation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had one last chance at a cliffhanger, you know I had to do it! And you all knew God was going to show up eventually, right?


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. Thank you all for your comments, your support, through this little fic that refused to be cut short. I hope this final meeting that's been long awaited makes some form of sense and it actually works.

For a long moment, no one moved. He considered that probably a smart move by everyone, to not move, to just take the moment and try to grasp it for what it was.

Michael moved first, which didn’t surprise him one bit. The language from his son’s mouth, however, certainly reflected his time as Dean Winchester. “You fucking son of a _bitch_ -“

“Dean, no,” Lucifer said in a hurry, grabbing hold of his arm and holding him back. Michael’s soul and Grace both screamed in fury, but Lucifer’s…

Oh.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Lucifer,” he said quietly. “I’m here to help.”

“Too little, too late for that,” Michael spat. He looked deep within the man before him and saw beneath the exterior that there was so much hurt. Hurt that he had caused, and he felt disappointment within him at himself.

Well. This was why he was here, after all.

“I assure you that nothing is ever too little or too late in regards to me,” he said.

Predictably, that enraged his eldest even more. “Oh, so what, you can come down here and snap your fingers, make it all better, and that’s supposed to make me feel better? There is absolutely nothing you could do to make this better.”

“Michael-“

“No, don’t talk to me, talk to _him_ ,” Michael exclaimed, gesturing towards Lucifer. Lucifer had let go of his brother but now stood quietly, silently, by his side. “You owe him more than you’ll ever be able to repay. So tell me, _Father_ , how are you going to fix this? How do you make right being tortured by Asmodeus, or, or being completely undone by Metatron? Or how about when you _left him in the Cage_ so long that even the memory of it is hurting his _soul_? Because I am _dying_ for an explanation on that one.”

“Dean,” Lucifer called gently, and Michael stepped back but only in clear deference to his brother’s plea.

He watched his sons, so grown in their time without him, and let out a quiet sigh. “I do have apologies to make. To you both. To Gabriel, and Raphael. You are right, Michael. There are things I cannot take back, even were I to undo what was done in the first place. You would remember. You would know. I cannot give you that innocence back.”

“We’ve never been innocent,” Michael said, and the defeat in his voice was worse than the fury. Michael had never looked like that before. Before the Cage.

The anger didn’t take long to build back up, though. “That still doesn’t explain how you left your son in that forsaken Cage for eons. I looked for you, we _needed_ you-“

“I couldn’t open it,” he finally confessed, and Michael froze. Lucifer, too, looked unable to move, but he managed to find his voice.

“You…couldn’t _open it_?”

This was, perhaps, the hardest part to admit: that he could do everything right in terms of righteous and justified anger, but that forgiveness and mercy were…something he still needed more of. In earlier times, wrath had come easily, but there’d been little to undo that fury: the flood being just one instance of that. And the Cage had been before the flood.

“When I had Death create the Cage, I bound it to you entirely. I was swift in my actions, and just in what needed to be done. I didn’t think beyond the measure of what needed to be done and how it had to be done. I…did not consider the after.”

“You mean you were too angry to think about how you’d need to reopen it to let Lucifer out,” Michael summed up. “Why not just say something-“

“Because I wanted to make it right. _Needed_ to make it right. And so I went seeking out the lone person who might be able to destroy the Cage and let me retrieve my son. The only being who’s ever been the best at destruction.”

Michael didn’t understand, confusion on his face, but Lucifer actually took a step back out of shock. His brother didn’t hesitate to reach for him, confusion becoming alarm as Lucifer’s face lost all of its color. He merely nodded to his son. “I did,” he said.

“Did _what_?” Michael asked.

Lucifer stared at him, as if unable to comprehend. “I do love you, Lucifer,” he said quietly. “I’ve been remiss in showing it, and I fear your human father didn’t exactly showcase a great deal of love in the way that you needed either. But there are no lengths I would not go to for you.”

“You went to see Amara,” Lucifer whispered, and Michael whipped his head around, eyes all but falling out of his head. He just nodded. “You went to where we locked the Darkness away. For _me_.”

“It was the only way I could think of to remove you: destroy the Cage around you. So yes, I went to the ‘best in the business’ as you would say.” Getting in to where Amara had been contained hadn’t been easy. Getting out had been “no picnic,” either, as Chuck would have phrased it.

Yet the hardest part had been the in-between step of seeing his sister and speaking with her.

“I knew what you were up to,” he said, raising an eyebrow at Michael. “I knew you’d gone down to see Lucifer against my wishes. And I was glad for it, truly, after a time. Every time you came back from seeing him, you were lighter, you were brighter. But your worry grew every time, and that was when I set out to free Lucifer, when I realized I had no way to free him myself. I’m a creator: I’m not a particularly adept destroyer.” Not anymore, at any rate.

Neither of his sons spoke. He took the time to look deep within them, to their blindingly bright souls of Sam and Dean, still perfectly intact. Then he looked beyond to where their small spring of Grace welled up, and he smiled to himself. So he’d been right, then.

“Amara told me no,” he continued. “She said not only would she not do it, she couldn’t do it without being outside of her own prison. She…said a great many things I didn’t want to hear. I spoke some hard truths to her. We argued. We fought. But then…we bonded. We reunited.” He smiled at the memory. “I have to say it’s most likely because of the example you set for me, Michael. I realized I had failed Amara, too. It had been easy to create another prison. It was harder to dismantle it.”

“You know how to cause destruction,” Michael said at last. “Don’t tell me you never destroyed anything-“

“I created,” he said simply. “What I created may have led to destruction, but to outright destroy something has never been a strength of mine. I created flood waters and let them cleanse the Earth. I created angels and humans that could engage in destruction. But it was always harder for me.”

That seemed to leave Michael silent for a bit. Lucifer, too, was quiet, but it was more a thoughtful silence, his mind going a million miles an hour. Oh how he had missed that beautiful mind.

“By the time I returned, Earth was such a mess, humanity doing grievous things to each other. My children were gone in one aspect or another, and when Metatron offered to take over, to let me pursue my thoughts in peace and privacy, I let him. I thought nothing of it.” He should have, but Metatron had been one he could trust. Or so he’d thought.

“When did you come back?” Lucifer asked after a moment.

“It was you two, actually. When you Fell. I felt it from where I was, this breaking in my heart, that my two sons were gone from me forever, and I would never hear their song again. I didn’t understand at the time what it meant, not really. I stayed away, the pain too much. I would have darkened all of Heaven with my grief.”

He smiled then; how could he not? “But then I felt your Graces return. Out of the darkness came the two brightest lights I had ever created and held in my hands, and they were returned to me somehow. I came back and found you both restored, and Lucifer freed.”

Michael’s anger had calmed a great deal, but it still lingered in his eyes. It was clear that he was making an effort to maintain that calm as he spoke, which was probably more for Lucifer’s sake than anything else, but he appreciated the efforts of his son nonetheless. “But you had to have picked up on Metatron and what he was doing. What was going on.”

Yes, Metatron had disturbed him immensely. “I did, mostly when I attempted to speak to Joshua in the Garden and found myself cut off. I then turned to Metatron and found him unwilling to hear me. So I turned around and went back to Amara. I told her I would need her help to retrieve Heaven again. She promised to loan me some of her power in exchange for some of my light to keep with her. I took that small bit of darkness down to the Cage, and I smashed it all to pieces. Including the Mark.”

As nonchalantly as he’d said it, his sons still looked stunned. He anticipated Michael having another outburst of some sort, so he himself wound up slightly surprised when it was Lucifer who spoke instead. “It’s…it’s gone? The Cage?”

“And cannot return again,” he assured. “It’s been done away with, the way I wish I had when you were still within it. For that, I am sorry, Heylel. It was a burden you never should have been faced with.”

Lucifer swallowed hard but said nothing; the tears in his eyes, however, spoke volumes. It was Michael he reached for a moment later, and Michael took his hand and grasped it firmly. They’d found each other as they always did, and, hopefully, always would.

“So she’s out,” Michael said. He nodded. “Where does that leave us?”

“Amara is my sister and my responsibility. We’re going to go away for a little while, and I’ll show her the other worlds I’ve had a hand in. I want her to try and create, and I need to try and destroy. If we can understand the other’s powers, I feel that we can work together better. Remain a unified whole, as it were.”

“And Heaven doesn’t have you, again,” Michael said, pursing his lips. “It’s bad enough we can’t do anything without our Graces, but now you’re going to leave again? They need you!”

“They don’t need me, Michael,” he said gently. “That’s the point. And there’s nothing wrong with your Graces.”

If looks could have fatally wounded, Michael’s would’ve left him a corpse on the floor. “Don’t you dare tell me that-“

“But it’s true,” he insisted. “Michael, I’ve looked at you both, and your Graces are perfectly fine. They will heal, and heal as quickly as you want them to.”

That at least brought his oldest up short. “What do you mean, as we want them to?”

He turned to Lucifer then, his brightest star, the curious and questioning one, and watched him search for the answer. “The answer is simple,” he said when Lucifer found himself lacking any ideas. “Your Graces are stalled because _you_ stalled them. You shunted your Graces and pushed them aside. You’re not letting them heal.”

“You think I don’t want my Grace back?” Lucifer said hoarsely, eyes wide in shock and anger. “You, you think the past few weeks haven’t been hell for us?”

“I think you don’t want what the Graces represent,” he said gently. “I think you’re both so afraid of what nearly occurred, of the “prophesized” battle that would’ve killed at least one of you, that you’re repressing the Graces, even though you long for them. Your fears are overriding your wants, your needs. I had hoped you would have settled by now, have found your equilibrium, but you haven’t. So I’m telling you about your choices.”

“Choices?” Michael asked, blinking.

He sat back and looked at the world around him. A butterfly flapped its wings in Norway, and he brushed aside the tsunami that threatened to rise off the coast of Japan because of it. A child cried for their mother in Germany, and he pushed away the darkness, urged the mother home a little faster. Billions of prayers flooded his mind, each one brushing at a part of his essence.

Yet the choice before him pushed against his very being like a tree falling upon him. This choice was not his to make but his to give.

“You have options,” he said at last. “You can remain here, on Earth, as Samuel and Dean Winchester, human brothers. What you do with that life is up to you, though I have no doubt hunting will play a huge part. You will have family as you travel through life.

“You could also find your fears eased and your Grace restored, and become Michael and Heylel once more, soaring through the skies together, managing Heaven and tending to its angels. Your winged family would be by your side each step of the way.”

He waited. He didn’t wait long. Lucifer met his gaze evenly and asked, “What if we want…both?”

Slowly he smiled. “Then I imagine you would make it work. Archangels of Grace and might running the roads in your beautiful car, your entire family at your side. Heaven asking for your aid, Hell running its usual interference. Life as it could be, yes. If you accepted your Grace again.”

His sons didn’t seem to know what to do with that, and he understood. Time to let them think for themselves. He rose and gave them each a warm smile. “Know this. Know that no matter what, you are my sons, and I love you. Know too that no matter what you choose that I will be proud of you. And lastly, know that you will always be together, and that no force in Heaven or Hell can turn you against one another. Never again,” he blessed, and though they didn’t feel it, he watched it settled around them like a cloak. He wondered what the little king of Hell would think of _that_ when he saw it.

Raphael and Gabriel would see it, too. He needed to tend to them now, but these two had been the more…pressing of meetings.

He raised his hand and Michael immediately called out, “You need to talk to Raphael and Gabriel before you disappear. You owe them that.”

“I do,” he said with a smile. “I may not always be here, but know that I will always hear you. I swear it.”

With a snap of his fingers he moved himself towards his other sons. Behind him, he left the dawn slowly rising over the edge of the land, a parting gift of a beautiful day filled with hope. _Be at peace._

“You gonna tell ‘em?”

Dean tossed the last bag into the trunk of the Impala. Somehow, the repetition of an act done a million times over helped quell his nerves enough to turn and face Bobby. The man who’d been a better father than any other father he’d ever had. Including God.

He swallowed back the bitter taste in his mouth. “Tell who?”

Bobby made a face. “You know damn well who I’m talkin’ about. Your other two brothers who I imagine are just as shell-shocked as the two of you are.” He paused, giving him an assessing look. “Though you’re handlin’ it better than I expected.”

They hadn’t exactly handled it very well that morning. Not after Father had left and Bobby had shown up a few seconds after that, saying he’d gone out to the garage but forgotten why he’d gone there. Who knew where Father had pulled Gabriel and Raphael.

After that, well. Dean had taken off outside, Sam right on his heels. He hadn’t seemed surprised where Dean had gone, either.

_Stone after stone hit the rock wall in front of them. Dean felt his chest heave for air with exertion, his hand ache as it grasped the stones too hard._

_Beside him, Sam threw another stone hard enough that some of the shards came back towards them. “Easy,” Dean said, and Sam blew up._

_“What the_ fuck _, Dean? He just, he just showed up, said he’d made a mistake, apologized, fuck, he actually apologized, that’s a first, and then-“_

_Sam turned and threw another stone, and this time the shards did come back far enough to catch Sam across the face, leaving a thin red line on his right cheek. Sam didn’t even notice. “And then he’s got Amara out? All of that work to contain the Mark and we could’ve just, we could’ve just broken it wide open and it wouldn’t have mattered? Didn’t he even consider coming and talking to us?!”_

_“No,” Dean said, and he felt more like his archangel self now than he had in days. “Because you know that’s now how he does things. He tells. He does. He doesn’t_ share _. That’s never been him, Luce.”_

_Sam, for the first time since he’d woken up, didn’t protest the name. “What are we supposed to do with any of what Father said? Huh? He, he said it’s our fault that our Grace isn’t coming back online-“_

_“Not our fault, Luce. Our choice. We decide. He’s giving us what he hasn’t given any other angel before: choice. He wants everyone to choose, and that starts with us.”_

_That, finally, settled his little brother enough that he slumped onto the nearest and shortest rock, knees almost to his ears. He let go of the last few stones from his grasp to join him, not at all surprised to see Sam shaking. “We decide,” he said quietly. He carefully wiped the small trail of blood that threatened to run down Sam’s face from the cut, using the opportunity to ground them both. “It’s our choice. Just like everything else. Team Free Will, remember?”_

_“Still a horrible name,” Sam muttered._

_They sat in silence, Dean on a rock across from his brother, Sam hunched over himself and staring at the ground. The sun continued to rise, piercing sunshine and brushing wind keeping them cool and warm all at once. Two opposites melding together into one beautiful morning. A ‘perfect morning’ as Father would’ve said._

_“So…what do we decide?”_

_He glanced at Sam, who was no longer looking at the ground but at him. “What do we do now?” he asked again. “Be human or be archangel? I don’t…I don’t know that we can be both at the same time. We tried that and found ourselves in a whole host of trouble. Never mind that not all of my memories are clear. The Cage…” He swallowed hard. “The Cage damaged a lot of things. The memories are coming back, but slow. Slower now without the Grace.”_

_Time to get past the maudlin. “What do_ you _want to do?” Dean asked._

_Sam bit his lip, looking indecisive, but Dean knew he had a choice in mind already. And he had a feeling he knew what it was._

“Dean?”

“We’ll tell them,” he said. Bobby just waited on the porch. “Just…not right now. We need some time, Sam and me. We’ve, uh. We’ve gotta figure stuff out.”

Bobby slowly nodded. “I figured. I ain’t gonna see you two for a while, am I?”

“Sooner than you think,” Dean promised, then grinned. “Sooner than you want.”

He got a shake of a head for that. It would be a while before they found their way back to Sioux Falls, and Bobby knew it. Everything was just too raw. And Bobby deserved time in a quiet house, too. The man loved them like his own but he also appreciated the place to be his own.

Besides. As much as Dean loved staying at Bobby’s, well. He loved the open road a little more.

Sam came out of the house then, his bag slung over his shoulder. “Got everything?” Bobby asked.

“I think so. It’s not like leaving it here is the end of the world.” He stopped, grimaced, but Bobby just clapped him on the shoulder with a snort.

“I could do without one of those for a while, thanks.”

Yeah, so could Dean. “What do I tell ‘em when they show up here?” Bobby asked. Sam hurried down the stairs, tossed his bag in the back, and slammed the trunk shut. Dean was pretty sure his little brother’s shoulders came down a solid two inches. Maybe that was why he was so tall: always too uptight.

He waited for Sam’s response, then realized his brother couldn’t hear his thoughts anymore. He pursed his lips. “They’ll come find us, trust me,” Dean said.

There was little fanfare after that. They loaded up and soon they were driving down the road, windows open, breeze blowing through their hair. Above, the sun was just starting to crest towards the middle of the day.

“You know what you’re going to tell them? Because Gabe and Raph _are_ going to show up sooner rather than later.”

Dean said nothing, just pulled out a sheet of paper and a roll of tape he’d filched from Bobby’s desk. The man wasn’t likely to go looking for it for a while and if he did, well, he’d figure he’d misplaced it along with half the stuff in his house. “Put this on the roof,” he instructed, handing the entire parcel to his bewildered brother.

It was a little funny watching how gingerly Sam put the tape on the ceiling, as if waiting for Dean to snap at him for marring his baby. When it was done, however, Sam just looked at what Dean had scrawled on it and snorted. “You think that’s seriously going to keep them from finding us?” he asked.

Dean spared a glance for the Enochian markings now secured to the roof and shrugged. “Should slow ‘em down for a bit.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted. “I haven’t gotten that far yet. Do _you_ have a clue how to tell them-“

“No,” Sam said shortly. Ah, so he’d been hoping that big brother would have the answer.

They drove for a little while longer, nowhere in particular, and Sam didn’t look for hunts. They didn’t just often drive for the hell of it, it was usually for something, but at that moment, there was no real ‘for’ or ‘need’ or even ‘want’. There was just driving.

It was when he neared the turn-off for a directional highway that he began to slow down. Directional meant a choice. Directional meant knowing where the fuck you were going.

“Where to?” he asked when the silence in the car got to be a little much. There was no one else on the road but eventually, someone would come up to a car stopped dead in the middle of the lane. Someone needed to decide which way they were heading.

It hadn’t ever seemed so hard before. He would’ve normally swung east by now, with most of the country back that way, or if he was feeling indulgent to Sam, he’d head west and let him wander and tan through the California sun while Dean burned and freckled.

He wouldn’t burn if he were an arch-

The phone rang, or really, _phones_ , both at the same time, enough to startle them both. Dean pulled his out and wasn’t surprised to see Raphael’s number. “Gabriel?” he asked without looking at Sam.

“Yup.”

Figured. Dean let it go to voicemail. His chest felt tight, tension running through him, because what was he supposed to tell them? He didn’t want to hurt them or lose them but-

“They have to find out sometime.” Sam’s voice was low and anxious. “Dean-“

Dean’s phone suddenly pinged, and he glanced at it in confusion. The GPS was on, directing him past the turn-off and straight ahead. His destination was apparently twelve miles ahead.

Guess the decision had been taken out of their hands. “Looks like they’ll figure out sooner rather than later,” he said, and hit the gas.

Thirteen minutes later (okay, so he wasn’t thrilled about having to tell them, all right?) they pulled over to a small overlook. Parking spaces were limited but all of them were empty, and the Black Hills sprawled out beside them, dipping low and rising high and casting little shadows in the noonday sun. Two picnic tables sat along the edge in a small grassy area. It was the first time that Dean had considered it being lunch time, and nothing sounded appealing.

Mostly because one of the picnic tables already had occupants. More than Dean had expected, actually, which was just going to make this harder.

He pulled to a stop and slid the car into park. Six expectant gazes waited for them. “Fuck,” he summed up succinctly.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Sam agreed, and they got out at the same time.

The silence in the area almost felt like they’d wiped out the birds and the bugs too. He felt like he was marching towards his execution with the solemn and still faces watching him. Not even Gabriel moved, his usual animated self only sitting, perched on the top of the table. Surprisingly, Ezekiel and Sidria sat beside him on top. It reminded him of perched birds.

“I’m not dignifying that with a response,” Gabriel said, glaring at him. Looked like the emotion they were going with was anger, then, and he barely suppressed a wince.

“I’m fairly certain you just did,” Castiel said, sitting at the table properly. Anael sat opposite him, her eyes on Sam. Only Raphael stood, Toni’s heels sinking slightly in the dirt, as if sitting wasn’t something he was capable of at that point. Not usually his style.

“Nothing is ‘usual’ right now,” Raphael said quietly. Up close, his eyes looked red, and so did Gabriel’s. Looked like Father had struck.

God. Not Father, _God_. Dean wanted nothing to do with the self-righteous bastard after what he pulled-

“Are you two all right?”

Dean glanced up at that. Raphael’s face held nothing but concern, and it made guilt twist into his gut. The last thing he’d wanted was to worry them but…

Well.

There hadn’t exactly been answers he could give.

“Oh yeah,” Gabriel said angrily, and he shook his head. “Dad struck with you two, too. You and Sam are nine types of messed up in the head. I can’t even parse out any of your thoughts, they’re such a clusterfuck.”

Oh. Gabriel was angry on their behalf. It would’ve been easier to feel that through Grace, but that wasn’t exactly an option right now. Well, it _was_ , if he focused really hard, but for the most part-

Fuck.

“Never mind what _that_ is,” Gabriel continued, gesturing towards them.

Sam frowned. “What _what_ is?”

“There’s a…an aura around the two of you,” Raphael said, tilting his head. “It almost looks like a blessing of some sort, but I can’t understand it.”

“Join the club,” Dean muttered. Add that to a number of things of he didn’t understand, and now, apparently, Father was adding in random blessings. Because that helped.

“That doesn’t explain why you ignored the phone calls,” Castiel said pointedly. “We _have_ been worried.”

“We know and that wasn’t our intention,” Sam swore. “It really wasn’t. We just…” And then he stopped. He tried to speak again, but the words just wouldn’t come. Dean got it. He wasn’t having any better time figuring out what to tell them.

Sidria frowned. “What did God even _say_? You’re both so anxious.”

“And speaking of that, what exactly are you three doing here?” Gabriel exclaimed, glancing at the younger angels. “It’s not like you got a screwball of a visit from God.”

“You haven’t let us come down to see how they are,” Anael said, crossing her arms. “We weren’t going to miss an opportunity to follow you and see them for ourselves.”

“In case you haven’t figured it out, we’re sort of dedicated to ensuring that Michael and Lucifer are safe, no matter whether they’re archangels or humans,” Ezekiel said. He gave a pointed look at Sam, then Dean. “We mean that.”

It helped, but only marginally. “What did Father tell you?” Raphael asked. “And where were you two even going?”

“Elsewhere,” Dean said. “Just to clear our heads for a bit.”

“In your car,” Gabriel said, but there was a haunted, knowing look in his eyes. “Without wings.”

Sam took a step forward, biting his lip. “It’s not, it’s not like that.”

Even Castiel looked as if he knew what they were going to say. “Without your Graces, I know that it might be difficult-“

“God gave us a choice,” Dean said. Fuck it: might as well bite the bullet and get it over with. “He said it was up to us to get the Graces back. That they hadn’t come back yet because we weren’t sure we wanted them.”

It hurt worse than he thought to see the stricken looks on the faces in front of him. “So Father…blamed you?” Raphael said. “For your lack of Grace?”

“That’s about how it felt, yeah,” Sam said quietly. “He said it was ‘our choice’ and that if we wanted it back, we’d have it back.”

“And…you don’t,” Sidria said, but it felt more like a statement, not a question. Raphael said nothing else, but his eyes were wide and filled with grief. Castiel wouldn’t even look at them, and Ezekiel and Anael both seemed bewildered. They were still young angels, still innocent in a way, and they still didn’t understand some things. Like why anyone wouldn’t _want_ to be an angel.

“No, that’s not-“

“If that was true, then you’d be flying, not driving,” Castiel said, cutting Sam off, and he almost sounded angry. Hurt, too, and this was going as poorly as Dean had figured it would.

“We just-“

“If you need help, I can help,” Raphael said, almost begging, and Sam clenched his fists.

“It’s not-“

“We do want our Graces back,” Dean said over Sam, silencing everyone. “And we _will_ get them back.”

Everyone looked bewildered. “Then why don’t you have it back?” Raphael asked, voice small.

Surprisingly, it was Gabriel who answered, who suddenly didn’t look confused anymore. No, he looked understanding. “Because they want time off and away from Heaven.”

Dean glanced at Sam. His little brother stood, silent, but there was that same tired and heartbroken look on his face. Dean straightened and gave Sam a firm nod. _We talked about this. We’re staying together._

Sam slowly stood a little straighter, as if he could hear Dean’s thoughts, trying to match Dean’s determination. Dean let his thoughts deliberately stray back to the early morning and figured it would project loud enough.

_“What do_ you _want to do?” Dean asked._

_Sam bit his lip, looking indecisive, but Dean knew he had a choice in mind already. Sure enough, Sam gave his answer a moment later. “I know you want to keep your Grace. And I do, too.” He paused. “Sort of,” he mumbled._

_“Sam-“_

_“But I don’t want you to lose what you threw away, twice now, because of me. So we’ll get our Graces back.”_

_It was said definitively, enough that anyone who didn’t know better would’ve probably taken Sam at his word. But Dean did know better. And right then and there, Sam was saying exactly what he knew Dean wanted._

_He nudged Sam’s foot with his own. “Why don’t you want your Grace back?”_

_“I do!”_

_“But?”_

_Sam tried to glare at him, but Dean just waited him out. He slumped a moment later, looking nine types of miserable. “I just…I can’t go back to Heaven right now,” he whispered, like it was some dirty secret. “I don’t…I don’t think I can. And I’m worried that my Grace won’t feel right. Again.”_

_It made all the sense in the world. The majority of the memories of being Lucifer, he’d been possessed by the Mark or locked in the Cage or in Hell or trying to protect Heaven and the others. The good memories of before were slim, and that was a big part of it. Not wanting to be Lucifer for a while…yeah, Dean could understand that._

_“But whatever I do, I’m going with you,” Sam said, and there was the determination he’d expected. On this, Sam wouldn’t budge. “So you’re going back: that means I am too.”_

_“Who says I’m going back to being Michael?”_

_Sam stopped, blinking. “You…you want your Grace back,” he said tentatively. “I know you do. You keep looking for your wings that you can sort of feel. You want to go back.”_

_“I do,” Dean admitted, and he did. Being Michael felt right. But…_

_But not at the cost of his brother’s well-being. Not at the cost of being Heaven’s First-Born, dealing with the next apocalypse or whatever the hell came their way. He just wanted a break._

_“I think we need some time, first,” he said slowly. “Just time being us. Sam and Dean. Then…then we can get back to being archangels.”_

_“Don’t do this just for me-“_

_“I’m not.” Sam gave him a look of ‘are you serious’ and Dean just shot it back at him. “I’m doing it for me, too. I almost lost you again, to Metatron, to Cain, to Asmodeus, to Zachariah, and I just…I can’t do it right now, Sammy. I just can’t. It was bad enough when the every-day spirits and monsters tried to kill you but this is a whole new level. And Heaven’s not completely secured yet. Almost, but not quite.”_

_“Like us,” Sam said softly. “Almost, but not quite.”_

_“And we can stay that way for a while. Get our heads on straight. We wanted it before, and we’ll want it again. A break would be nice, though. Not just a break locked down here at Bobby’s because we’re healing, but a break doing whatever we want to do.”_

_“Just us,” Sam said, and for the first time since they’d been shell-shocked by God’s appearance, Sam actually smiled. “And our brothers.” He hesitated then, smile dipping slightly. “If they’re still-“_

_“Don’t even finish that,” Dean warned. “That won’t change.” At least, he hoped it didn’t. “Small break. Get us even-keeled again. And then I have a feeling our Graces will come flooding back without our even trying.”_

Something smacked him upside the back of his head, and Sam flinched as he was treated similarly. “You assholes,” Gabriel said, voice trembling, eyes swimming. “Of course us being brothers doesn’t change. Even if you’re gonna run the human side of things for a while.”

“A break wouldn’t hurt,” Castiel said. He gave a warm smile this time, and there was no lingering hurt in his gaze. “I think you’ve both more than earned that.”

“Hey, we all have,” Dean countered. “After the past few weeks, are you kidding me? I want a beach.”

“You hate the beach,” Sam noted.

“I don’t hate the beach. Beautiful women in bikinis…”

“You burning under the sun…”

“Not if I wear sunscreen.”

“You hate sunscreen. And hats. And anything remotely helpful in keeping you from a sunburn.”

“Father above I’ll miss you two,” Raphael said with a smile. It was edged in sadness, though, and before Dean could say anything, Raphael held up a hand. “I know it’s not a permanent thing, and I’ll see you both sooner rather than later. But you’re right: you do both need time. Especially you, bright one,” he said at Sam, and Sam smiled at him with tears in his eyes.

It occurred to Dean then that unless he prayed or called, this was them all parting for a while. Giving Raphael and the others time to manage Heaven. Giving Sam and Dean time to rest and heal. From the way Sam’s eyes pooled with tears, he’d apparently already put that together.

Raphael glanced back at Castiel. “And what will you do?”

“Follow them,” he said simply. When Dean began to open his mouth to argue, Castiel simply shook his head. “No, you can’t expect me to let you wander alone and human here on the Earth without some form of angelic protection, no matter what blessing God seems to have given you. I can keep my distance and still be there if needed.”

“Cas-“

“You won’t know I’m there if you don’t want-“

“I think Dean was saying you could come with us, more directly,” Sam said. Castiel paused, as if he hadn’t considered that option.

Gabriel headed back to the table and slung an arm around Castiel’s neck. “Nah, you can go with me. We’ll criss-cross with them, have our own road trip. I’ll expose you to everything human.”

“Not a brothel,” came out of Dean, Sam, and Raphael in tandem.

Gabriel gave them all glares. “You sure you two can’t still read my mind? Because Dad above, seriously…”

“What did Dad say to _you_?” Sam asked. A dark look crossed Raphael’s face, and Gabriel looked upset but sadder, which…was not at all how Dean had figured that would go. Huh.

“Later,” Raphael finally said when he didn’t look as thunderous. “It’s not honestly anything that pertains to the here and now. We’re fine, Father’s fine, Amara’s fine, and you two will be fine, too.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Anyone ever tell you what ‘fine’ stands for?”

“I am _not_ neurotic,” Raphael muttered. “Emotional, perhaps, but not freaked-out or insecure.”

Anael stood from the table and made her way over to them in the midst of Raphael’s petulant response. She gave a deep and respectful bow towards Dean, then suddenly smiled brightly and embraced Sam. Sam managed a smile in return when they parted. “Be safe,” she told them, and then she was gone.

Ezekiel came next, wishing them both well and promising to continue to check in with them as well as “Mr. Singer, Mrs. Harvelle, and Jo.” As if that hadn’t been made blindingly obvious earlier, and even Sam snorted once Ezekiel was gone.

Sidria came forward, almost reluctantly, but it was clear from the miserable look on her face just _why_ she was so hesitant. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered, almost helplessly. “Please stay safe. Being human is so fragile-“

“We’ve been doing it for a while,” Sam promised her, taking one of her hands in his. “We’ll pray if we need help. I promise.”

“We’ll pray for more than just help,” Dean said, going a step further. She gave him a grateful smile before finally departing.

Then there were three.

“You two can ride with us, if you want,” Dean said while Sam wiped at his face. “It’s got room for more than two.”

“Not yet,” Gabriel said. “We’ll probably drop in sooner rather than later, but…your brains need some recalibrating. I caught enough flashes to Dad’s conversation with you two to know that; never mind the conversation outside of Bobby’s place after he’d blown through. No, this is…this is the right choice.”

“And not permanent,” Sam reminded them.

Raphael gave a nod. “And not permanent. You’ll see more of me as well, but for now, well. I have research on banishing sigils to do, and I need to continue squashing the rebellion that briefly started thanks to Metatron. There aren’t many left, and I imagine, when Naomi wakes, she’ll list more.”

“How is she?” Dean couldn’t help but ask. It wasn’t that he wished her ill, because he didn’t, but he would’ve liked more answers than what he got. Even though he was on the other side of the puzzle now, having the last pieces fall into place would settle him.

Raphael nodded. “Getting better by the day, and should wake soon.”

It was clear that God hadn’t detailed when or how he might return. Dean didn’t ask. They didn’t volunteer. “Well,” he said, and then he stopped.

In an instant he was engulfed by Castiel and Gabriel, and he held on tight when his own eyes suddenly burned. Only when Sam’s hand caught his shoulder and Raphael’s hand clutched at his jacket did he finally close his eyes and let tears trail down his face. Not forever, just for a little while.

He wasn’t losing any brothers anymore. They’d always go together.

And when he felt the faintest brush of something soft against his head, something that felt a lot like a wing, he knew it wouldn’t be long before his own wings were back where they belonged. Lucifer would have his, too, and he would embrace them and his Grace.

They parted too soon and were urged back to the car. “We’ll follow,” Castiel promised, and Gabriel nodded.

“We’re a wing away. Always.”

And with that, the three disappeared. Dean took in an unsteady breath at their sudden departure.

Sam looked like a mess, face soaked with tears, lower lip gamely trying to keep it together. “Cali?” Dean asked. “Plenty for Cas to soak up of human culture down there.”

Sam snorted through his tears and wiped at his face again. “Yeah, maybe. Or the East Coast; you love cutting through Pennsylvania, for some reason.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Dean said. They got in and headed back towards the directional highway. Dean didn’t hesitate this time, just took a turn and floored it.

Ahead of them, the sun began to descend towards the horizon. _Always together, little brother,_ he swore to himself, and maybe it resounded through what little Grace they had. Or maybe it was just obvious on his face. Either way, Sam’s smiled broadened as if he’d heard it just fine, and they took off for the west coast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I'm not done.
> 
> Yes there's going to be more. No I have no clue when. Yes I'm working on it. Yes I am also working on other fics.
> 
> If you have a particular plot idea in regards to this 'verse, something you'd like to see done, feel free to leave it in the comments. I can't promise that I'll write every single one, but if I do get a hint of, "Well, that's possible," do know that I'll ensure you're noted.


End file.
